The Modern Leper
by holidaysfromreality
Summary: Artie Abrams has spent the last eight years adapting. When he meets someone just starting out, he begins to look at his life in a totally different way.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the new story. I don't really have much to say here today, so I just hope that you all enjoy it. **

**Thank you to Miranda for beta'ing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

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At his somewhat mature age of sixteen, Artie Abrams had already learned a lot of lessons about life. Perhaps more than someone his age should have to learn. First, there were things like: _don't care too much, even if you do. _Because you don't want to come off as desperate or over-emotional. And, as the Rolling Stones so eloquently put it, _you can't always get what you want_. But maybe the most important lesson he had to come to terms with was that there is always someone who has it worse than you.

It was almost morbid but it didn't make it any less true for him. Artie had it pretty bad. Since just after his eighth birthday, he had been in a wheelchair from a car accident that paralyzed him from the waist down. It could have been worse, he knew.

Life had never been simple for him. He had many problems physically, emotionally, and socially over the years. There are only so many things a child can focus on at once and as much as he would have loved to work on his friendships when he was eight, he was too busy recovering in the hospital to go out and join the peewee soccer team. He spent his pre-adolescent years coming to terms with the fact that his life would never be the same.

Eventually, he stopped noticing the stares and gawks when he rolled down the hall. He was able to keep from getting embarrassed when people asked about the chair. The fact that he was an anomaly both in public places and at school stopped phasing him. He knew people were curious about him. How he lived, how he went about his day.

And after that, people stop noticing. People at school don't stare at him so much anymore.

Life was normal for Artie. He had friends and he was in the glee club. Things were as close to a normal teenager's life as they were ever going to get.

A few weeks after school began his junior year, Artie was called into the school guidance counselor's office. He had never been called out of class before when he wasn't expecting it, like when his father came to take him to the dentist, so he was genuinely confused.

He rolled into Miss Pillsbury's office, where she was moving chairs around to make her small office more accessible for him. She looked up and waved him in, "Artie, please. Come in."

"Am I in trouble?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he shut the door gently. He went through all the things he had done in the last few weeks in his mind. He _had_ skipped out of his English class a few minutes early, claiming his next class was across the school, when really he was just going to go meet Tina in the instrument closet next to the choir room. But how could anyone have possibly found out about that? And it's not like they didn't anything wrong…

"No, no," she said, her mouth making an "O" around the words. She straightened her skirt and sat down on the edge of one of the chairs, "You're a fantastic student, Artie. You're second in your class, and you're in glee. You should be very proud of yourself."

"Then…why am I here?" He didn't want the question to sound rude, but if he had been called if here just to praise him…well, he would have rather not come. Artie hated to hear good things about himself the same way he hated to hear his voice on a recording.  
Miss Pillsbury flattened a wrinkle in her skirt out with her hands and placed them delicately in her lap, "I wanted to talk to you about your volunteer hours. You're aware that you need fifteen hours to graduate, correct?"

He shook his head. He had never heard anything about this. And his friends hadn't said a word about this either. Also, what organization would be willing to let him work for them? He was a liability to waiting to happen. He couldn't do much construction work for Habitat for Humanity like most guys would, because he couldn't reach higher than about two feet above his head. And his chair always seemed to get in the way of something important whenever he was trying to help.

He would probably end up doing more harm.

"Well, that's okay. Sometimes these things slip by," she said, "But the reason I've called you in here is because I was approached with an opportunity that you may be interested in. I was contacted by Lima Memorial Hospital yesterday afternoon…about you. You were in your accident when you were eight, correct?"

Artie was sure she already knew. She had even admitted to reading his file before in the other times he had met with her. But he nodded anyway.

"There is a young girl currently in their pediatric wing that's around the same age and she was in an accident similar to yours three months ago. She's paralyzed to almost the same degree you are. Her family wanted to have someone to come talk to her a few times who knows what it's like before they send her home. That's where you come in."

"Me?" he asked, "I don't know."

"It would just be for a few hours," she assured him, handing him a piece of paper from the folder on the chair next to her, "For two Saturdays and maybe once after she goes home. It would really give you a leg up on your hours. You could have at least six by the end of the month. And I can't speak for her family, but I'm know they would appreciate it. I'm sure you can understand this is a very difficult time for them."

He did. People often thought that his condition had affected only him. But if anything, it had more impact on his parents. They went from having two healthy, able bodied children, to having to care for a newly disabled son when they never thought they would never have to. They had to move into a new house that was accessible for him and buy a new car. Money-wise, it was stressful.

Mentally, it was worse. Even at eight years old, he could see the tiredness in his mother's eyes when she would sit with him for long hours when they would poke and prod at him. Maybe that made them closer, but the guilt from having to make her go through that never really faded. The obligation to make it up to her is constant.

Artie honestly wasn't sure what to do. In some ways, he would feel bad if he said he didn't want to do it from the get-go. It had been so many years since he had gone anywhere near Lima Memorial Hospital. And he had reasons for that. Reasons he would rather not discuss with Miss Pillsbury.

At the same time, though, he remembers how much he wanted some kind of companion that understood what he was feeling. Someone that could have reassured him that things would turn out okay.

The doctors and the nurses just hadn't been very convincing to him. They didn't make it seem like his life would ever return to a relatively normal state. Whenever he would ask if he could do something when he returned home, they would just say, "Your life is going to be very different now, Artie." That never answered his questions. That never _helped _him.  
Their answers didn't save him from years of uncertainty and therapy.

He was reluctant to say yes. What if he did agree and then chickened out? He didn't want to disappoint this little girl who had already been through so much in such a short span of time.  
He knew what that was like. He wouldn't add on to her troubles if he didn't have to. Finally, he asked, "Can I think about it?"

"Of course," she said, standing, "I really want you to consider this, Artie."

He nodded in understanding before she opened the door for him, signaling that he was dismissed, and he headed back to class.

The rest of the morning passed with little fanfare. He had Spanish with Mr. Schuester and they discussed his solo for glee club after he finished taking his test for chapter three. It looked promising when they talked about it but who knows what would happen with that. He had been promised a lot of big things in glee club that really never came to much outside rehearsals.

He met his girlfriend, Tina Cohen-Chang, next to her locker just before lunch. She was bopping to the beat of whatever she was listening to as she transferred her books into her backpack. When she saw him, she took one of her ear buds out and leaned down to kiss him quickly as she put her lunch in his lap, "No stealing my cookies," she said, laughing, and she began to push him down the hallway. When he didn't laugh along with her, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Miss Pillsbury called me into her office this morning."

"Yeah, and?" she replied, "They didn't find out about…"

That was one of the things he loved most about Tina. How their minds always seemed to go to the same place when something happened. They were almost always on the same page, no matter what the subject. They were totally alike in mind, of course, because they would probably clash more if they weren't. Like their voices, the things that they agreed on and things they disagreed on meshed well.

"No, not that I'm aware of," he told her, "She asked me if I wanted to go talk to this little girl that's in the hospital. She was in an accident like mine a couple months back. When she's released, she'll be in a wheelchair and they want me to provide some…I don't know. Advice? Emotional support. Something like that. Anyway, I don't know if I want to do it."

Tina pondered the situation as they entered the lunchroom. She pushed them to their usual table and set her lunch on the table, moving to get his own out of his backpack. "You should," she said as she sat down. She broke one of her cookies in half and handed the smaller part to him, "I mean, wouldn't you have liked to have someone come and talk to you?" He shrugged as she continued, "You could really show this girl how good her life could turn out. I don't know about you, but I think you have a pretty good life."

"So you think I should do it?" he clarified, taking a sip from his can of Diet Coke.

"Yes," she replied, "Why? Don't you want to?"

"I just…I haven't really _been_ in a hospital since I was released," he admitted.

She unwrapped her sandwich and ripped off a bite before popping it in her mouth. She swallowed, then said, "I could go with you, if you want."

Tina and Artie had been together as a couple for nearly nine months now, but they had been friends for a lot longer. Because of their long history together, it had kind of become an unspoken rule that they didn't talk about Artie's accident or condition much. She also knew to never bring up his time in the hospital, because out of all of those things, that was what he was most sensitive about. For obvious reasons, of course. Now and again, he would mention it in passing, but she never asked him to elaborate because she didn't want to dig up anything for him that he was obviously trying to put to rest.

It didn't mean she wasn't curious. But it was a difficult topic to breech. You don't just walk up to your boyfriend and say: _I want to hear about the accident that paralyzed you while we walk to class_. She had been waiting years for him to bring it up and she still hopes that he will, someday. She had tried once when they had to be in wheelchairs for glee club. But the concise but vague answer he gave told her that he didn't want to talk about it.

With that, the subject dropped, because their friends, Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones, joined them at the table, ready to talk about glee club gossip. Artie had basically made his decision by that point, anyway.

After school, Artie went by Miss Pillsbury's office to get the information about this opportunity. She gave him a two page packet that described the basics of when he should be there, who he should report to, among other things. She gave him another sheet that had a list of items she suggested that he bring along with him. Photos of himself before and after the accident and any things that greatly impacted his life.

He asked if it was okay if he brought Tina along, for moral support. She saw no reason why not, explaining to him that her female influence might make everyone more comfortable.  
Artie's reason was a bit more selfish. He needed her there in case he started to have a panic attack of something. Sure, he could have this mother come with him, but she couldn't calm him down in the same way Tina did.

Miss Pillsbury couldn't tell him much information about the child he would be seeing, other than that she was eight and that her accident was three months ago. They hadn't disclosed a name or anything that he could go on so he could figure out what to say to her. He didn't know what she liked and didn't like. What if she liked sports instead of music? Artie knew music.  
He didn't have even the slightest indication as to what to tell her.

He was sure that she knew all the basics that they teach you in the hospital. How to maneuver in the chair and get dressed and go to the bathroom. All of the clinical stuff that she would be plagued with for the rest of her life.

But a doctor can't teach you how to make friends when you can't run and play along with all of the other children. Or start a conversation when those children are too afraid to come up to you. They can't teach you to find interests that fit you and you can actually do when you're confined like this.

Even though he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, Artie made his way home that afternoon knowing he had made the right decision.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm so glad people are enjoying this new story. I really love writing it. I feel like it's almost a very loose character study of Artie. **

**Thank you to Miranda for beta'ing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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"Hey, Mom?" Artie asked, rummaging through the cupboards that lined the back of their living room, "Where do you keep the photo albums?"

His mother had come into the living room now to see what her son could possibly be up to. He was up to his ears in family memories, from framed photographs of his great-grandparents and other heirlooms, but there was not a photo album in sight.

"Why?" his mother asked, reaching up into one of the higher cupboards and pulling down a few bound books for him, "You've never shown any interest in looking at these in years."

She was nervous for what his answer might be. She had put those albums up there for a reason. She rarely used Artie's condition to her advantage, but this was one of things that she felt like she had to. If he couldn't reach them, he would usually give up trying to find them.

Artie was not always as happy with his condition as he appeared to be. Sometimes, she would go into his room on those nights he'd fallen asleep with the lights on to see that he had spinal cord injury research pulled up. Until he was thirteen, he would look at pictures of his able bodied self wistfully when he had nothing better to do, and that was when she started to put the albums away one by one, so he wouldn't notice. That was around the same time that he met Tina so he hadn't really noticed the change.

Instead of looking at photo albums alone in the dark, he started to get the normal teenage life he had always dreamed. The kind of existence she always dreamed of him having.

Artie handed her the note Miss Pillsbury had given him, "They just want me to go talk to her, show her some pictures, you know. Tell her that things will be okay."

"Are you sure, Artie?"

"I want to do it," he told her, hoping that she hadn't heard the waver in his voice. He did want to help, but he didn't know if would be able to, for a number of reasons.

One, there was that whole fear of hospitals thing. It wasn't just a _oh, I don't like hospitals thing_. It was pure fear. It made him physically sick to be within a hundred feet of Lima Memorial. He often gets the "well, have you tried?" question. And the answer is: he has. Multiple times. He ends up getting sick in the backseat long before they're even off the highway. It's just the prospect that puts that ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

If his mother was had any thought of protesting, she didn't voice any of it, "Will you need a ride?"

He nodded, "Tina offered to come with me. Is that okay?"

"Of course, sweetie," she replied. Inside, she was glad Tina was going to go with him. She might be able to distract him enough to get him through this.

Her son spent more time thinking about other people than himself. He cared deeply for everyone, when he was able to get close enough to trust them. He didn't have a hateful bone in his body.

She just hoped that he wouldn't regret this.

Artie didn't look at any of the pictures once he returned to his room, instead choosing to focus on the stack that had been taken in the last year. Ones that had been imported from cell phone camera to computer and ones taken on Tina's nice camera and everything in between. The stack was thicker than most of his textbooks and they were all his favorites.

The top were mostly of him and Tina because he liked to look at those first. They always made him smile. He put a few of him with his friends and him with Tina into a zip lock bag and put it in his backpack.

He didn't spend much time dwelling on where he would be in a matter of three days, because then he would work himself into a frenzy. And that would be torturous for everyone.

He spend the days remaining before the weekend focusing on what he usually did. School, glee club, homework, and Tina. Whenever his mind got off track, he would just move on to one of those things.

But on Saturday, it was unavoidable. Tina arrived when he was in the middle of getting ready. She waited outside in the living room with his mother while he finished up. As much as he loved his girlfriend, he didn't really want her in his room with him when he was getting dressed.

He had an interesting way of getting dressed. He'd get ready on the top in his chair, because that was the easy part. Maneuvering around his armrests was simple. After he'd be ready on the top, he'd slide onto the floor, and lay on his back, and work his pants on. It wasn't the most normal looking action, because he constantly had to stop and make sure his foot wasn't getting stuck in any weird position, and hindering him from getting the rest of the way up.

Even though shoes weren't necessary, Artie had an impressive collection of them. He examined the rack of them as he clipped his suspenders on. Unlike most people, comfort wasn't really that big of a factor in what he chose, so he always went by what looked the best. He put them in his lap and rolled out into the living room, where Tina and his mother were drinking coffee and chatting.

Tina took the shoes from him and pulled his feet into her lap, gently easing the shoes on. Normally, his mother would do it, but he was getting more comfortable with allowing Tina to help him. It started off slowly, with her asking, and now there were certain things that she just knew she could help him with. Like his shoes. Or getting things from high shelves when she saw him struggling.

His mother had retrieved her purse and keys and asked, "Ready?"

Artie knew it was stupid of him to go on an empty stomach but he _really_ didn't want to throw up. He settled for a sip of coffee from Tina's cup and a kiss from her because he didn't think he could take much more.

His mother pulled the van out of the garage and stopped to lower the ramp so Artie could roll in. He made sure he was secured before she drove off. He took a deep breath as they got on the highway and Tina reached over and took his hand.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" his mother asked, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

He shrugged. He didn't feel like he was going to puke, but they were still early in the day. He just thought about how many times he'd wished he'd had someone to talk to that knew what it was like.

Tina's hand tightened on his when they exited the highway and gradually got a little tighter until they were stopped outside Lima Memorial.

It hadn't changed a whole lot on the outside. The red brick walls were just as rusty looking as they were intended to be before and the grass was just as green. Nurses and patients still milled around the walking paths like when he was here. Nothing was really that different—these types of things tend to stay the same.

He kept his hands tightly clasped together as Tina began to push him toward the entrance. When she saw how white his hands were from the strain, she stopped, sitting down on a wooden bench, and turning him toward her. She put one of her hands on his cheek, "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," he said, reaching up and grasping her hand in his. He brought their intertwined hands down to rest on her knee, "I'm just a little nervous. I was really lucky…besides the obvious, I only had a few bumps and bruises from the accident. She might not be."

"Is that all?" she asked, "Are you sure you're not just nervous to be in a hospital again?" He shrugged, even though she was absolutely right. The distress was starting to build up in his stomach and he didn't know he would be able to do this. He had spent so many months here as a child, hooked up to so many machines, and gotten so many shots that he just couldn't help but feel anxious.

He avoided it all together. He didn't come with his family to visit his cousin when she had a baby nor did he go when his father's best friend had had surgery. He couldn't do it. He physically could not do it.

One day, he knew, he would have to. What if he and Tina wanted to have children someday down the line? As much as she loved him, he didn't think that she would be very willing to have a home birth.

He needed to get over this. _Nothing was going to happen to him here_.

At least, that's what he was trying to convince himself.

"Artie," she said, squeezing his hand as she scooted closer to him, "If you need to leave and take a break while we're in there, you can tell me, okay? I can sit with her for a few minutes whenever you need." He didn't answer, but she continued, "You have every right to be nervous. When was the last time you were even here?"

He counted in his head, "Nine years ago, in March."

Her rubbed his wheels with his hands, feeling the rubber against his fingertips. Some people rubbed their hands against their knees almost compulsively and Artie was no different with his wheels. They were like an extra appendage. "I think I'm okay," he said, moving back a bit so Tina could stand. She smiled at him and got behind his chair again and he held his breath when the automatic doors open.

He had made it inside at least. That was a start.

His heart was starting to race more rapidly than it should. Tina was about to press the button on the elevator when he said, "Stop."

He moved back and started back toward the lobby, "I can't do this. It's…it's just too much."

Tina grabbed onto his handlebar, stopping him. "Artie, look at me," she said, getting on her knees in front of his chair. She took both of his hands in hers, "I'm here for you, okay?" His breathing was starting to get more shallow, "Take a deep breath. You're okay."

They continued to sit there for five minutes until he got his breathing under control. The sense of terror didn't fade much, but it was enough to get him to try again. He _had_ to get over this.

"You're sure you're okay now?" Tina asked, hitting the button for the elevator for the second time, "No one would blame you if you wanted to go home."

He shook his head and rolled into the elevator as the door opened. The confined space made him a little uncomfortable but he wouldn't be in there long. He filled his lungs and let it out in a whoosh as Tina pushed him out into the waiting area of the pediatric ward.

He sat silently as Tina went up to the desk for him, explaining why they were there. The nurse behind the desk seemed to understand immediately and stood, instructing them to follow her.

They didn't go far, just a few feet away, in a room in sight of the nurses' station. Artie tried to ignore the fact that it A034, the same room that he'd been in for so many months.

The nurse held the door open for him as he wheeled himself in. A little girl looked up at him.

"Hi," he said, "I'm Artie."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, here's chapter three. **

**Thank you to Miranda for beta'ing and also to Barrett, who looked this chapter over as well. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.  
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In its most basic form, the hospital room didn't look all the much different than it did when he was staying here. The walls were still the same off white, the furniture the same design and in the same position, and it had the same feel of trying to make distressed people comfortable.

He knew that these rooms in the A's were for high-risk patients—those who were just out of the ICU—and ones that needed to be checked on often. Artie was both. He was in the intensive care unit for the week after the accident, when his condition was especially uncertain. And after that, he just had to be checked on often, so the nurses would build up the habit of moving his legs for him.

Horror stories of pressure sores scared him silly. They made it sound like it would eat through his entire leg. Eight years later, he agrees that they were pretty bad, but he feels silly now thinking that they were like the plague.

The room's smell was familiar to him, kind of like bleach masked with vanilla. And the beeping of the machines were like an old song in his ears that he had just rediscovered. When family used to come visit him, they would mention it immediately and focus on nothing else, but it faded into the background almost immediately for him.

The only difference about the room then and the room now was that it was obvious that a girl was staying in here. While the tables during his time had been lined with Hot Wheels cars and Transformers, they now held Barbie dolls and jewelry making sets.

The nurse left so everyone could get acquainted, informing the young girl that her parents would be there soon.

Artie rolled up the bed and removed his gloves, setting them on the thin blanket. His voice was quiet when he was asked, "What's your name?"

She clutched her stuffed doll closer to her chest and said, "Cassie."

"Like Mama Cass," he said, smiling as he looked back at Tina.

Cassie seemed interested, "Who's that?"

"She sings this song Tina and I really like," he replied. He reached back, signaling for her to come closer. She sat on his armrest, "Speaking of which, this is my girlfriend, Tina. I hope you don't mind if she's here."

She lowered the doll a bit and shook her head, "You're very pretty."

Tina blushed and ducked her head a bit, "Thank you."

Her cell phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out of her pocket to see who it was, "Sorry," she said, "it's my mom. I'll be right back." She kissed Artie's temple before jogging out of the room to answer it before it went to voicemail.

The small child raised her doll a little higher when Tina let the room. Was she…afraid of Artie? How was that even possible? He felt like he was one of the least intimidating people on the planet.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said, leaning his elbows against the bed, "I'm here to answer all of your questions. Do you have any?"

She shook her head and he could see her tighten her arms around her doll. "Okay. Well, maybe you'll have some later. Is there anything you'd like to do?"

Miss Pillsbury had suggested that he wait to show her the things he wanted to show her for the second time they met. She was probably still somewhat shaken from her accident and because she was so young, she needed some time to warm up to him. It was her advice to let her choose whatever activity she wanted to do and just go along with it.

She pointed to a book on the bedside table, "Will you read me _Sleeping Beauty_?"

Artie took some of the colored pictures that were laying on top of it and looked to see what he was up against. _The Golden Age of Fairy-tales_. Was everything about this girl just like him?  
"Yeah, sure," he said, opening to the first story.

His sister had gotten this collection for her birthday one year and loved to read Artie the stories from it. She used to lug the thing around all day so she could read to him before visitors' hours were over every night. It became a long standing tradition for them. Even after he learned to read well and started to become less interested in being read a story every night, it still continued. Up until she left for college, she would knock on his door every night with a book in hand. Usually they would switch off reading duties every night, but whenever he had a bad day, he'd lay his head against her shoulder, close his eyes, and just listen. Get lost in a world so different from his.

Occasionally, she'll call him at night when he's getting ready for bed, and say, "I want to read to you, Artie." And she'd read him a few chapters of whatever she was reading until he fell asleep.

From the book of fairytale, _Puss in Boots_ was always his favorite, but Ali always liked to read the girly ones first. _Sleeping Beauty_ was one of the stories that he'd heard more times than he cared to admit.

He cleared his throat and began, "Once upon a time, there lived a brave king and his fair queen…"

By the time Artie had finished, Tina had returned to the room and was sitting in one of the many chairs surrounding the bed.

As he put the book back on the table, he wasn't exactly sure what to do next. But it always seemed like Tina always started whenever he left off. She came up behind him and placed her hands gently on his shoulders, "Cassie, what do you like to do?"

She spoke easily to Tina, "I like soccer."

That's when he knew he needed to take a break.

He unlocked his brakes and moved his hands to his wheels. He tapped Tina's hand so she would step back.

"Here, I brought this for you," she said, reaching into her pocket and handing him a granola bar, "I'll handle things here."

He nodded gratefully at her and wheeled into the hallway. He just…he needed to take a minute for himself. He unwrapped the granola bar with shaking fingers and pressed his head against the wall.

Everything that was happening right now was just…too much. His heart dipped for Cassie because she would have to learn all of the lessons that he did. He was a boy and it had been emotionally tough on him…he had no idea how her brain processed this. Artie had always had a desire to participate in sports—he liked to throw the football around with his dad when he was little—but that option kind of vanished once he was in the chair. He knew there were leagues for people in his situation, but his outgoing nature kind of halted after the accident.

Inside the room, Tina was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing Cassie. "What do you like to do besides soccer?"

"I like to ride my bike," she said, "I got a new one for my birthday and it has pink tassels."

Why was she so comfortable with Tina, but so quiet when Artie was about? "Why don't you like to talk to Artie?"

She wrinkled her nose, "He's a boy," she told Tina, "My older brother said that boys give girls cooties and that I'll get them if I hang around his friends when we're at school."

"You don't have to be worried about Artie," Tina replied, "He's clean. He gave me all of his."

"But why aren't you sick from them?"

Tina leaned down to whisper, "Because you only get sick from cooties if you don't love the boy who gives you them."

"Do you love Artie?"

"I love Artie," she said, grinning.

"Did I hear my name?"

"In fact, you did," Tina replied, "We were just having some girl talk, nothing that would interest you." She winked at Cassie.

"How did you meet Tina?" Cassie asked.

Artie shut his eyes for a moment, "You don't want to hear _that _story." He didn't really like telling that story.

"Oh, come on, Artie," Tina insisted, "You were so cute. Tell it."

"Okay, fine," he said, coming closer to the bed, and locking his brakes, "When Tina and I met…"

~~A&T~~

Even at twelve years old, Artie could tell that Tina was different from other girls. He classified most of the girls in his grade in one of two different categories. There were "twirlers" and "ballers." Whatever place they fell into, they were sporty…athletic.

Ballers played straight up sports—basketball, volleyball, and whatever other sports girls liked to play. They usually wore gym clothes every day and always had their hair in a ponytail. They were more rough and tumble than other girls.

And twirlers were exactly what they sounded like. They much preferred to twirl themselves around on the sidelines than be in the actual game. They were girls like Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez, who used to actually be kind of nice, but turned into stuck-up bitches the moment they got their hands on some pom-poms. He and Quinn used to be friends, and they were neighbors up until his family moved into a house that more accessible for him. They were really close until she learned how to do a back flip and tried out for McKinley Middle School's mediocre cheerleading squad.

Which left him starting seventh grade, basically, friendless.

Tina was neither of those kinds of girl. She was in a category all her own. He was struck by that the first time he saw her.

She wore t-shirts with The Beatles on the front—which Artie was instantly impressed by—and skirts with safety pins lining the bottom. She was a new girl from Cincinnati, really quiet, and stuttered whenever she spoke. That was all he knew about her before they talked to each other.

They hadn't really chose each other. They were allowed to pick a table-mate after the teacher had learned their names, and no one wanted to sit with either of them. He was the boy in the wheelchair—and people thought he was more high maintenance than Rachel Berry because of that. They thought if they sat with him, they would have to wait on him hand and foot, even though Artie _never_ asked for help. He _wanted _to do things for himself. Hadn't he made that clear over the years?

And Tina was the new girl with a stutter. No one had taken the time to get to know her because it was just too much effort to wait for her to spit out her responses. She stood at the back of the classroom, books clutched to her chest, as she tried to find someone to sit with. The wretched tears were beginning to burn behind her eyes.

The teacher came and stood next to her, "There seems to be a place next to Artie, Tina. I'm sure he would love someone to sit with."  
She walked up to him and tapped his shoulder. "C-c-can I s-s-sit h-h-here?"

He moved his chair over a bit so she could have some space at the table, "Yeah, go ahead," he said, "I…I really like your shirt. Let It Be…it's…it's really cool."

"It's m-m-my f-f-favorite s-s-song," she replied.

He smiled, "Mine too."

They quickly found out that they had more in common than just their favorite song. He liked all of her favorite bands, she liked all of his favorite movies, even the ones that other people thought were stupid. They were able to talk about books and television shows and everything in between. They just meshed well with each other.

What he thinks sealed the deal for them was the first time she got slushied. It was a week after the school installed the machine for the children to buy during lunch. A number of students had already been hit in the face with one of the cold drinks but the administration wasn't really doing anything about, because it was making the district money.

Tina had been walking to class from her locker after lunch one day when Noah Puckerman passed her. She hadn't even seen the cup in his hand, but the sudden flash of chilled ice made her notice pretty quickly. She covered her eyes but it was too late. Her reflexes weren't fast enough. She was now covered in the sticky syrup—it was sinking into her new shirt, drying against her skin. It was horrible.

She stood, completely still, until she knew that he was gone.

When she was sure, she moved to sit against the lockers, the tears already streaming down her face.

Artie had been on the way back to class from the nurse after getting his allergy medicine when he saw the mess and then his friend crumpled against the lockers. "Tina?" he called, wheeling faster toward her, "Tina, what happened?"

She motioned to the empty slushie cup that was now on the ground a few feet away.

"Come with me," he said, tugging on her hand, "We'll get you cleaned up."

She followed him to the other side of the school to one of the private handicap bathrooms. He held the door open for her, then joined her inside. She closed the toilet seat and sat down on top of it as Artie wet a piece of paper towel, and looked at her carefully, "Do you mind?"

She shook her head as he moved her hair back and gently wiped the now dried slushie from her skin. He was almost finished when he moved back to get some paper towel to dry her off with when he smacked her square in the head. "Ow."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he said, just as he slipped on a patch on water on the floor and effectively rolled over Tina's foot.

"Ow, ow," she yelped, standing instantly, which pushed him over, and he nearly fell out of his chair. She was able to grab his chair just in time.

And then she started laughing. Hysterically, which caused the scare from nearly falling to wear off for him until he was laughing just as hard as her.  
When they returned to class ten minutes later, they were bound together in a way they never thought possible.

~~A&T~~

"That's so cool," Cassie said.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Artie said, smiling at Tina as they intertwined their fingers.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" Tina asked.

"I want to know _everything._"

What had he gotten himself into?


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't have a whole lot to say here, but I just want to thank everyone that has read, reviewed, or put this story on author alerts. This is only the beginning. **

**Also, this is my favorite chapter so far, and I'm hoping that everyone will enjoy this one. **

**Thank you to Miranda for beta'ing and getting me this chapter so quickly. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.  
**

That night, Artie got ready for bed as he normally did. His long nightly routine seemed to take longer than normal because his exhaustion was making it hard for him to focus. It had taken him about five tries just to get some toothpaste on the brush. He could almost do this routine in his sleep, so this was just ridiculous. He used to need help from his mother doing all of this, but he had gotten good enough at it that he could do it by himself.

When he finished in the bathroom, he sent Tina a quick good-night text, smiling at the one he got in return, and got into bed. He dialed his sister's familiar number as he arranged his legs into a comfortable position.

"Hey, little brother," she said. She was probably back from her late class now, getting ready for bed herself. He wondered if her roommate was back or if she was alone.

"What are you reading right now?" he asked, leaning back against his pillows. He crossed the arm that wasn't holding the phone across his chest.

"Rough day, Art?"

"Something like that," he replied, fiddling with a loose string on his shirt. He stopped messing with it and replied, "I just miss you."

Artie told his sister this often, but he sounded especially pathetic tonight. It was almost sad how horribly dejected he sounded. It was almost the equivalent of a puppy that had just been kicked in the face or one of those late night infomercials with the children from third world countries.

It was never a secret how he missed her terribly when she was gone for long spans of time, studying at Ohio State. She was a junior there and had moved back in August to start another year in the dorms. Which meant it had been nearly two and a half months since they'd seen each other.

They were close. She was, arguably, his best friend in the entire world. She was always there for him whenever he needed and she had spent most of her years defending him and making sure he was happy. And he did the same in return for her, even though he wasn't all that effective on the defending front.

He didn't have to worry about anything with her because he was his sister, his ultimate protector and alli. She saw him in ways that no one else saw. She was the only one that had seen him cry since he was in the hospital, eight years ago. Not even Tina had seen him lose it like Ali had.

And he's watched _All Dogs Go To Heaven_ with Tina. Not tearing up during _that_ was a feat within itself.

With his sister, he was able to let all of his walls come down. To let her see the scared, sad, stressed little boy that was always lurking just below the surface.

He was happy that they were still close. Puberty had ripped apart the friendship of a lot of siblings, but not them. If anything, growing up had made their bond tighter. The gap between what a boy should like and what a girl should like pretty much closed all together. They were able to be friends without people wondering why.

They did what they could. They video-chatted whenever they both had a moment to themselves and called a few times a week. With her being busy with getting her degree and him with school and glee club, sometimes the other got knocked to the wayside. But never for very long.

"I miss you too," she said. She paused for a moment, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Nothing happened," he insisted. She knew all about his volunteer opportunity thing and was supportive of the fact that he was trying to face his fear. If he was being honest, he didn't really want to talk about his panic attack in the lobby, "It was just a really long day."

After he told Cassie about how he and Tina met, she wanted to know everything about them, but she shied away from anything pertaining to his condition. It was just about him and Tina—what their favorite song was, their favorite movie, and other things of that nature. She wasn't really afraid of him anymore, but she wanted no part in asking him questions about the thing he had been sent to help her with.

He agreed to meet with her again on Wednesday, a few days earlier than they'd originally planned a second meeting, and then again on Saturday. Since they'd hit it off so well, her parents asked if it was okay if they met a few more times than they'd originally expected. Now that the initial fear of going back into the hospital had started to wear off, he was able to say yes more quickly.

"I'm reading this amazing novel right now, since you were wondering," she told him, "Do you want me to read you some until you fall asleep?"

"Yeah," he murmured tiredly, sinking deeper under the covers and relaxing all of his muscles. It wasn't until that moment that he realized how tense he was. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear and she asked if he wanted to her to start from the beginning. He yawned, "Wherever you left off."

It didn't take long for him to calm down and start to drift off. The smooth cadence of her voice was something they had in common. His came out when he sang, but her's was in the written word.

It was like magic, the way her words soothed him. Eventually, his hand lost its grip on the phone and it slid down, her voice only a tiny echo in his bed. It was almost like a lullaby without the music.

The day had been tough on him but he felt stronger…more confident. And for that reason, he knew that he would able to do this again. He hoped it would get easier as time passed and he wouldn't have to start each visit to the hospital with a massive panic attack.

It wasn't until nearly the end of his visit that he had met Cassie's parents. They reminded him so much of his—tired, sad, but having that mask of wanting to stay strong in front of their small child. They told him that they hadn't seen their daughter so happy in weeks and it was nice to see her smiling again. They told him that he gave them hope that she could one day have adapted as well as he has.

At the time, he'd smiled and nodded, because he didn't really know how to respond to that.

How could _he_ possibly help someone?

It would be a miracle if he didn't screw up this girl's life forever.

He didn't want to give her false hope.

Maybe that's why he appeared to have such a good life. He and his family hadn't gone into this with too high of expectations. Not once did his parents ever give him the impression that he would walk again. They made it clear the chances of that were so slim that he might as well make the most of his situation. He thinks that his lowered presumptions made him better at handling things. When it first happened, he thought he was doomed.

When he was in the hospital, getting from one end of the hallway to another in a wheelchair that was much too big for him was an incredible accomplishment, merely because he didn't sit in the wheelchair and think _this is going to be a piece of cake._ There's a huge difference between maneuvering in a wheelchair when you can feel your legs and when you can't.

Maybe that helped him, not thinking from the get-go that everything would just come easy for him. Because when he did accomplish a task, like getting from the bed to his chair by himself for the first time, the pride from doing so was stronger than ever. It actually felt like something amazing had taken place.

And he thinks that was the point.

The mundane things should become amazing. Making yourself breakfast without any help, which is normal for most children by the time they're nine or ten years old, was something that he couldn't master until he was much older. He had to learn to do things in a kitchen that wasn't made for him.

The world wasn't made for him, plain and simple. Shelves would always be too high, stairs would always exist, and that's why he had to constantly think of ways to get around things that hindered him.

He couldn't reach a book? Well, Tina would always be willing to get it down for him. He couldn't find a convenient wheelchair ramp at school? Finn and Puck never really had a problem carrying him and his chair.

It was always difficult for him to get excited about a step forward when his entire life was one giant step back.

It was like being overjoyed about impending doom. There was always risk of complications.

He didn't want to feel like he lived a complicated life. But there were rules that he had to abide by. Things he had to do in order to keep doing. If he faltered…well, there hadn't been anything yet.

Just what was to be expected.

He would have to get through to Cassie that some days are better than others. A simple rain shower can ruin your day when you're like this. The things that used to be beautiful, like the first snow, really becomes a nuisance over time. And you feel bad for being bitter about it, when really you're just being practical. Wheelchairs don't do well over ice. It's like trying to roller-blade on water.

That's the message he was trying to send: things would never be _easy_, per se. They'll just be as okay as they can, with as little complications as possible.

He had been living with that charter for so long that he barely had to think about it. The one word that constantly went through his head was: survive.

Sometimes he wished that he could stray from the set path that he was on.

The one that had been chosen for him. The one that had been out of his control.

He never blamed anyone for what happened to him. It was mere happenstance. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But sometimes he wished he had someone who he could put the blame on.


	5. Chapter 5

**This is chapter five...yeah. That's about it.**

**Thank you to Miranda for beta'ing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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The sense of being refreshed was what Artie awoke to. He'd been so physically and mentally exhausted the night before that now he just…felt better. Talking to Ali and falling into that deep sleep was just the combination he needed. He often put too much pressure on his mind at once. He was the type to work himself into a frenzy over nothing.

Maybe _that's_ why his parents invested in all that therapy, he thought to himself.

He laid in bed for a long time, as he always did on Sunday mornings. His family used to go to church, but they hadn't gone in about four years. The interest just decreased as time went on—people got busy, puberty hit and he wanted to sleep in, and a million other things. They still went on major holidays or when someone as in need of some spiritual guidance, but that was rare.

The Abrams were a logical bunch. They sat down and talked out their problems instead of going to church and asking for help.

And therefore, Sundays were not a day where he got down on his knees and prayed. Even if he could, he wouldn't.

He did, however, use it as a day of reflection. He went over the good things, the bad things, the funny things, the sad things that had happened during the week. Things that affected him and things that didn't. News stories and his friends' stories. The jokes that made him laugh and the ones he didn't get. He thought about stuff he wanted, stuff he needed to do.

One would think it would make his mind too busy. And then he would get panicky. But he thinks he would be more likely to be that way if he didn't have that chance to just review.  
He had quite a bit to think about this morning. It had been one of the hardest, most trying weeks for him in a long time. He liked to think that he lived a fairly relaxed life, so he always noticed when he had a difficult week.

But because of it, he felt different. Like he could face all of his fears head on and come out stronger. He knew that feeling of being invincible would be short lived. He had to take his time with this. Sure, this time had been okay. What about the next time? What if he saw some major crisis happen on his way up? He couldn't be better in one visit. It was like being afraid of heights and being convinced that you're ready for sky diving when you've only climbed to the top of a tall building.

It wasn't like in the movies where everything seemed to suddenly be better after a quick montage of tries and fails. It's much more difficult than that. People in movies were able to jump into things quickly, they were able to make mistakes because no matter what, everything would be okay in the end. Everyone always got a happy ending.

He knew full well that that one rush of adrenaline or guilt or whatever it was that was that got him up that elevator could have very well been a fluke. If he never did it again, well, it wouldn't _really_ surprise him. Because happy endings don't happen in real life as often as they happen in movies.

Not in the way people think. Happy endings are less running into the sunset and more of having a life that is, at the very least, above average. In the way you feel, in your relationships with other people.

This was the only time Artie enjoyed silence. There was an eerie quality to complete quiet that just made him uncomfortable. But when he laid in his bed, looking up at the ceiling, his thoughts were enough of a soundtrack for him.

Anyone that knew him well enough were well aware for Artie's hatred of silence. You could guarantee if you walk into his room at any given time, something will be playing just for the noise. Music, a movie, the television. Something to break the silence. He was one of those people that came in the house and turned on the television immediately if no one was home. He needed that sense that someone was there.

Being alone kind of terrified him.

And not in the way that he needed to be in the same room with someone. Because he did like to be alone in that kind of situation. He craved time by himself when he was with people for too long. But when he was in the house by himself or the first one in a classroom, there was this bad feeling in his stomach that started to build up. He didn't even know where it came from or what caused it. He just knew it was there.

It was something he learned to deal with, like so many other things in his life. He found ways around it.

He often had dreams of being in large, open spaces with lots of people he knew and no one having any idea who he was. Or them disappearing as he wheeled into them. Like ghosts.

It was around noon when he finally emerged from his room, in search of food and maybe a little bit of conversation. His father, also a late riser on Sunday mornings, was sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper and coffee. He looked up when he heard his son's wheels make the floor creak slightly. His eyes continued to scan the article he was reading as he said, "Morning, champ. Your mother went out for some things for the week, so it looks like it's just you and me."

"Okay," Artie nodded as he opened the pantry door and pulled down a box of cereal. All of the cabinets had been redone so he could reach everything. His mother was a master at organizing, so she kept things that he would never think of wanting or needing on the higher shelves, so not being able to get something was never really an issue. The pantry was like a closet, and his parents made sure that the shelves didn't go to far back, so he would be able to get things.

There were some things, however, that he had to make do with. Like getting dishes. That was something that couldn't have found a way to change no matter how many times they arranged and rearranged their kitchen, so eventually his mother invested in a small bookshelf that was was between the pantry and the counter that held a small portion of the the cups, bowls, and plates they owned that he could easily grab whenever he needed. He never had to struggle to get something off a high shelf or wait for someone to help him.  
He appreciated that his parents put so much effort in for him. It wasn't easy on them either but they tried really, really hard.

Early on, he realized how expensive remodeling a house was. It was as difficult for his parents to find a house that would be accessible for him not only when he was eight, but also as he got older. His wheelchair had been fairly small right after the accident, but in terms of sizes, he was up three since then. Most people had old bikes ranging in size in their garage, but no…he had wheelchairs.

This house's floor plan was well laid out. The doorways were wide and there weren't really any tight spaces, so he was able to get around easily. All the floors were either linoleum or hard-wood, therefore he never had to be worried about getting stuck on carpet.

But there were things that would never be quite right. Like the kitchen. His parents had remodeled one side for him, and everything was lowered down by a good foot and a half. On that side, there was a stove, but it only had two burners because there was a four burner stove-top on the other side that his mother used. Because you can't really mess around with height when you're talking about hot surfaces. The height has to be just right. The counters on his side didn't have cupboards underneath and that made it so he was able to wheel right up to them.

The counters held the microwave, the toaster, all the things he used on a regular basis, and needed to have within reach. This arrangement worked quite well.  
The thing he liked most about the house, though, was the fact that he and Ali's rooms were right next to each other. And it wasn't even that he liked having her there but it was more that if she had been upstairs—where his parents' bedroom and his father's office was—he would have thought that he was missing something exciting that was going on where he couldn't be.

The upstairs always kind of alluded him. When he was nine or ten, he used to always think something magical was going on up there. And once, he had his father carry him up to see. It looked pretty much the same as downstairs and he figured out pretty quickly that this was his parents' space and it was boring because of that. He went back downstairs within five minutes.

He poured his cereal into the bowl he'd chosen and covered it with milk. He was tapping out a beat on the side of the bowl when his father asked, "Are you planning on doing anything today?"

He thought for a moment, "Tina might come over." It was always a possibility that she would come over at any given time. She often showed up on his doorstep on weekend afternoons to hang out or go out.

Artie would admit that he wasn't nearly as close to his father as he was with his mother and his sister. Even before his accident, it had been this way. It was mostly because they just didn't have that many similar interests. He didn't like sports or doing handiwork around the house or watching CNN.

His father had his good points, though. If it wasn't for some of his advice, he probably wouldn't be with Tina. He wouldn't have had his first kiss when he did. The wheelchair races had been his idea, after all.

But his love of music definitely came from his mother. When she was pregnant with him, instead of playing Mozart into her belly like all the books said to, she played The Beatles. "Let It Be" was her favorite to play for him, because she said his kicking would always get lighter, and she assumed that he had gone to sleep. But when she played others, like "I Want To Hold Your Hand" and "Help," he would kick up a storm, almost as though he was dancing.

In that way, he had always felt a special connection to the music. He had something that few had—exposure to fantastic songs and artists from day one.

His mother loved everything. From The Beatles to Frank Sinatra to Queen. Her collection of CDs, cassettes, and records was impressive and one of Artie's favorite activities was going through all of the ones that he didn't know or re-listening to the his favorites. There was never an absence of music in his household.

On their home videos, instead of dancing around to the music of "Barney," he was moving to the beat of "Pretty Young Thing." He knew how to do the thriller dance just from watching the video over and over again by the time he was four.

Even when he tried to venture into other things, music remained. He tried sports out when he was about six because his father had played football, as had his uncles and grandfather. It was something that was _supposed_ to run in the blood of Abrams men. But for Artie, it must have skipped a generation.

He wasn't very good at the things his father liked. He tried to golf once but ending up missing someone's head by just a fraction of an inch. After that, he was the child that sat and read books while his father played and socialized with other men in golf shirts.

Of course, there were things they agreed on. Things that he would only tell him, because he was a guy. There were certain situations that needed that male influence. His mother would go into a protective mode immediately if he told her that his glasses got flushed down the toilet. Or that his wheelchair had been thrown off the roof. His father…well, he didn't understand, but he wasn't calling the school before he even finished explaining.

He wishes they could talk sports, sometimes. Or do projects together.

But Artie was all soul.

And that was something he got from his mother.


	6. Chapter 6

**I think with the exception of maybe one day, I've posted a chapter every day this week thus far. That's kind of amazing to me. **

**Anyway. **

**Thank you Miranda for beta'ing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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After finishing breakfast and putting his dishes in the sink, Artie called Tina to see if she wanted to hang out for the afternoon, but she ended up being busy, and would be for most of the day. He was too lazy to put more effort into making plans with someone else, so he hunkered down on the couch to watch movies by himself. It was kind of strange not having anyone to tell his opinions to, no one to argue with about special effects with, because usually Tina was here on afternoons like these.

Movie mornings/afternoons/nights was one of their absolute favorite ways to spend time together. Film was an interest they'd always shared. When they'd first met and a lull in the conversation would happen, one of them would say almost immediately, "Have you see this-or-that?" And then they would have something to talk about.

His extensive knowledge of movies came from when he was in the hospital. He didn't really come from a family of movie-goers, but he had to have_ something_ to do in the long stretches of hours that his parents were at work and his sister was at school. His mother started out bringing him movies that kids his age should like. They just didn't capture his interest. It wasn't until his father started sneaking him the things that his mother wouldn't normally let him watch like _Star Wars_ and _Indiana Jones_ that he saw how much he had been missing. He watched, probably, close to a hundred and fifty movies in the hospital.

He'd never met anyone that had actually _heard _of all the titles he had seen, let alone _watched _most of them.

At twelve years old, that fact alone convinced him that Tina was his dream girl.

To him, becoming what they are now was a natural progression. He always _hoped_ it would happen the way he wanted, though he was somewhat sure that Tina would never go for a guy like him. She want someone who could do stuff with her. Throw her on the back of a motorcycle and drive off into the sunset. That was how his twelve year old mind worked.

If he was going to put it into movie terms, Tina was the Andi of his world. He was Duckie, that dorky best friend who secretly harbored unconditional love for the girl, and every other guy in the world was Blaine. And who would always get the girl?

But, for once, the alternate ending was seen. He, _Artie Abrams_, somehow snagged the beautiful, amazing girl.

If their relationship's beginning hadn't happened when it did, he knew it would have eventually. Because he would have always been waiting in the wings for that day when Tina saw him the same way he saw her.

He considered her first move to be that day after glee rehearsal, when it was just them on the stage, and she asked about his accident. By telling her that little tidbit, he knew that maybe it would work on a different level than it had currently been at.

It would have happened in due time.

She always managed to surprise him. She said yes, even after he stumbled over his words to make it clear that it wasn't just hanging and that it was a _date_. When she gave him his first kiss in the middle of that quiet hallway and showed him that his feelings weren't one sided. But what surprised him that most was how much she loved him.

How could this impossibly beautiful, smart, and funny girl love him? It was like there was much that he could offer her in return. He couldn't be involved in very many of her interests. He couldn't get up and help her with her advance jazz and tap routines when she needed to work things out with a partner. He could only watch. He couldn't even hold her hand when they walked side by side. If it wasn't for the fact that they kissed in the hallways… and outside the school… and in the lunchroom… no one would know they were together.

There was also the fact that Jacob Ben Israel reported about it on his blog with the headline: _This Just In: Asians Think Wheelchairs Are Sexy. _

But they didn't look any different when they walked down the hallway together. They never held hands unless they were sitting next to each other. Once, Kurt had offered to push his chair while so he and Tina could hold hands while they walked to a class they all shared but it was just… too awkward. It didn't look right. And it made everyone kind of uncomfortable.  
Also, he was kind of a nerd. He would readily admit that. He didn't wear the coolest clothes or say the most eloquent things. He didn't consider himself a 'dream man' for anyone. But apparently, he was the kind of guy that Tina liked.

And there was that whole being in a wheelchair thing, too.

A relationship, for them, would _never_ be easy. There would always be obstacles that they would have to tackle as they came. There were the things he noticed now, like the way people looked at them when they were together. When they kissed. When they were just having a normal conversation with each other, talking and laughing. He could tell that they thought Tina felt sorry for him. That she was _pitying_ him by being his girlfriend. He could see it in her eyes in a way that she couldn't.

It didn't change how much he loved her, though. He tried so hard not to let the stares and what people thought about them scare him off from being happy. It had been working so far.  
But sometimes he wondered if she loved him as much as he loved her.

The proof, he believed, was in her bracelet. The one that she'd worn every single day since the day he met her. It had only had two charms in seventh grade—a yin-and-yang symbol and a tiny pair of tap shoes. But each year since then, one had been added for her birthday. She always got to choose what it was. Eighth grade brought a "T" for her name. Their freshmen year, she added a microphone. He had always known she liked to sing but he had never heard her a note come out of her mouth before that year. And last year?

It was a wheelchair. A little silver wheelchair.

Even if it was just for a moment, it calmed all his fears and doubts whenever he saw it. It held so much more meaning for him than it was probably supposed to. Tina put it there because she loved him and wanted everyone to know it, but let it be a little bit private at the same time. People asked about the bracelet all the time, what the charms meant but if no one saw it, no one asked about it. And then it was just their little slice of heaven. That was their relationship, in a nutshell.

He hoped that they would stand the test of time. He saw the way that the couples they knew would break-up and get back together and then hate each other and this endless cycle of drama. He hoped that he and Tina would get the point where they could just _be_. Be happy, be together, whatever just _being_ was.

Whenever he imagined his future, there was never any uncertainty over whether she would be there or not. The woman in his life was never a nameless, faceless person. It was always Tina. Her face, her voice, and everything about her was ingrained into his fantasies. And he hoped that it was the same for her.

Tina told him that she loved him every day. Multiple times a day, sometimes. But…he had his insecurities and he would admit that. It would be so _easy_ for her to decide that their relationship was just too complicated and run off with a guy like Mike Chang, who could make all of her dreams come true and more with a lot less effort than he would have to put it in. Any other guy could do the simple things with so much more ease.

It was hard, having all the things that you know is true and all of your fears swimming around in the same enclosed space. You never know if you should go with your heart or your head. Whether you should believe the truth or listen to the fears.

He knew that she wanted to know more about his condition. Not the mechanics, exactly. But what had happened. Why he was so terrified of hospital…what specific event caused that. The personal stuff. The things inside his mind that he had never really told anyone, not even his family. The things that he really shouldn't have a problem telling her, considering how much he loved and trusted her.

The issue wasn't even that he thought she would go and blab his secrets to everyone and their cousin if he did. It would always just be between just him and her.

But what was stopping him, then?

He was afraid of scaring her. He had seen a lot of things that Tina had _never_ been exposed to. He didn't want to scare her off with the inner workings of his head. Once he had said those things, told those stories, there was no going back. They could never be _untold_. If they scared her like it had scared him to experience them, he didn't know how he would possibly reverse it. He would never know how to make things go back to the way they were before.

He was about twenty-five minutes into his second movie of the day when his mother returned home from the grocery store. He offered to help her bring the groceries in after she made a second trip outside and transferred into his chair. He was able to get the rest of the bags into his lap and make it back inside in one trip. Over the years, bringing groceries inside was one of his main chores, mostly for the reason of how quick he was able to do it.

As he handed cans to her to put in the cupboard, his mother told him, "I wasn't expecting you to be up. Your sister said you called pretty late last night."

"It was only like eleven-thirty. She exaggerates," he replied as he balled up the now empty bag in his hand and moved to bring another one into his lap.

"You just seemed tired after your day—we barely talked when you got home. How did go?"

He knew his mother was curious. And the fact that she'd held off this long to ask him about it was amazing in itself.

"It went better than I was expecting, I guess," he admitted, "Cassie is really sweet and she seems to really like me and Tina."

"What did you talk about?"

"She was really only interested in Tina and I, like, how we met and stuff. It wasn't invasive, really, but it wasn't what I was expecting to talk about. I thought she would be more eager to ask questions about the chair, but…she almost seemed afraid of me before I started talking about me and Tina."

"Well, whatever makes her comfortable."

They finished putting away all of the groceries and Artie went to his room to start on all the homework that he'd put off this weekend. Just as he was booting up his computer, his cell phone buzzed on his desk with a new text. He smiled as he read it what Tina had sent him.

_Hey, guess what?_ it read, _I love you_.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, yeah. Again, not really much to say here. This is the last chapter I have stockpiled, so chapter eight probably won't be up for a few days. **

**Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing, etc. **

**Also thank you to Miranda for beta'ing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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"Your assignment this week is about making the unknown known," Mr. Schuester said as he moved around the front of the choir room. He went back to the whiteboard and underlined the word written on the board—_Indie_—for the third time since he'd started his lesson. He had spent the last twenty-five minutes explaining that Indie was short for Independent, and honestly had almost nothing to do with sound, like the term had seemed to become in the days of Phoenix and Bon Iver.

Artie agreed with what his teacher was saying, mostly because he had heard a lot of artists that were "indie" meaning independent, and they sounded like they wanted to be the next Britney Spears.

Sound was a big part of it, he believed. The less accessible the sound, the less likely people are to take any notice to it. It has to be catchy—have a hook. Most independent artists didn't have that hook that people had come to look for. They were all in the lyrics, something people have stopped paying attention to, in his opinion.

There was a slightly different feeling to it than what was constantly on the radio. The people that made the kind of music Mr. Schue was talking about truly _cared_ about the music. They weren't looking for fame in the way a pop star is. Or at least, they care a little less about the money. Because everyone's ultimate concern is money.

The reason for this assignment was clear to him. Mr. Schue wanted them to care about the music.

Beside him, Tina was diligently taking notes about the assignment. That was one thing that hardly anyone noticed about her. She was always writing things down. Not because she was forgetful, particularly, but because she liked to record things for posterity.

She told him once that one day she would be able to go through all of her glee notes and have physical proof of all of the things they'd done. She always joked with him that she'd like to have at least one exciting thing for their children to find in a box in the attic when they were out of town twenty years down the line.

She wanted anyone who read the notebooks in the future to see how these assignments now shaped them. How the doodles she drew expressed what she was feeling. What they were thinking when they passed notes when no one was looking.

Or maybe she just wanted them all for herself. He wouldn't put that past her.

Part of him was glad she recorded it all. The other part of him was scared as to who would see it. What if he and Tina _did_ break up and then her future husband found it? If he was that guy, the other guy, the one that was in a relationship with a girl who had left one with so much love, he would be a little nervous.

But for now, he was happy that that there was something tangible that held all of their memories.

After school, Artie was flipping through Tina's iPod as she wheeled him out to her car. Normally, his mother would pick him up, but today Tina was absolutely insisting that he join her at the mall, because she was going to find a dress for McKinley's homecoming dance, which was being held in a few weeks.

Normally, he wouldn't want to go to things like that. He'd skipped it both freshmen year and last year. Both of them had, instead opting to do their usual Saturday night routine, which meant movies and pizza at one of their houses. But now that he had friends_ and_ a girlfriend that couldn't really turn him down, he figured that there as no reason _not_ to go.

Tina had been thrilled when he'd asked her. Even though it was kind of a given that they would go together if they were going to go, she appreciated the gesture of him asking her as if he didn't have an automatic date.

All of the glee clubbers were going in a big group when the dance took place next month.

"Finding anything for the assignment?" she asked him as she maneuvered around the clusters of students filling the parking lot. She peeked over his shoulder to see what he was listening to.

"Not sure yet," he replied, scrolling down the massive playlist that the tiny object contained, "But I think I picked a pretty good partner, because your iPod is like some kind of heaven for this."

"Just pretty good?" she teased as she unlocked the passenger side door and opened it as wide as it would go. He smiled playfully and laughed. They'd waited a few minutes inside with Kurt and Mercedes so the cars around her would have cleared out so it would be easier for him to get in. "Hop in."

He handed her iPod back to her and she held it in one hand, holding his handlebars with the other as he transferred himself over into the seat. The difference in height between his chair and the car made it a little difficult, but Artie was a pro at this, and it was probably easier for him than it looked to her. He knew exactly what to do. Tina was always impressed by how agile he was.

He would remove his feet from the footrests and scoot himself forward, then put his hand on the seat on the car for some leverage. In one fairly quick move, he would put most of his weight on his hands, and suddenly be in the seat of the car.

He'd keep one leg out as he took out the cushion on his chair and handed it to her. She placed it in the backseat, then took the rest of the pieces as, one by one, he began to disassemble his chair. It was a surprisingly easy task, considering how sturdy his wheelchair was.

But she knew that he preferred to ride in his mother's van, where he could basically just lock his chair into place where the seat should be. That was the reason that he so rarely rode in her car, but today she felt like it was pointless to wait around for his mother when they could easily take her car to the mall straight from school.

They listened to a few of their options for their assignment as she drove the streets of Lima to the only mall in town. As usual, it was packed, but for once Artie had remembered to put his handicap sticker in his backpack before leaving the house.

It hadn't occurred to Tina that he would have one until she started going places with him. Of course, it made perfect sense. He was in a wheelchair, there was no reason that he wouldn't have one. He needed the extra space around the car and the few amount of cars near the front helped as well, since cars couldn't really see him out of the mirrors when he was just wheeling along.

However, Artie was healthy in every sense of the word, in all the other aspects of his body. He was strong and toned in his chest and arms, despite the fact he hadn't taken a gym class since he was eight or lifted a weight. In her opinion, he had a very attractive face and his skin was always clear. And he seemed to dodge illness every single time something was going around.

Whenever she thought of "handicap sticker owners," she always pictured little old ladies with bad hips and war veterans with no legs. But not Artie. Never Artie.

As she pulled the key from the ignition and hooked the sticker behind her rearview mirror, she said, "I'm so glad you remembered this. I thought I was never going to find a spot in this mess."

Artie was trying to be lighthearted when he said, "One of the benefits."

But he immediately regretted the words that had just left his mouth, because it was a complete lie. There were really no benefits to being like this. He tried to have a good attitude, he really did, but sometimes he felt stupid trying to downplay the kind of life he lead. It was harder than he made it look. He didn't really know why his words made him upset, it just left a feeling in the pit of stomach that said: _You shouldn't have said that._ Tina laughed like it was a joke and that was how he intended it, right?

They reassembled his wheelchair and they began to move toward the entrance. Tina leaned forward slightly against the handlebars and told him, "I'm happy we're going to homecoming. It'll be nice to have the experience, right?"

He agreed. It was the normal thing to do, wasn't it? He and Tina never prided themselves on being normal, particularly, but sometimes it was fun to just be teenagers. He knew Tina was ecstatic to get to dress up and go dancing with all their friends. Even if they weren't the most conventional of couples, the things they did could be.

They were good at doing their own thing. Finding things to do together that both of them could participate in. He didn't know how this whole going-to-a-dance would work in terms of what he could do and what he couldn't do, but his goal was that he was going to make sure Tina had a good time. If they never went to another one again, she would at least have the memory of this one. And he didn't want it to be a bad memory.

"Everyone else seems excited too," he said.

"I think Kurt practically went into shock when we said we were going," she said, "And then his mind went into overload about how to make our outfits match."

"Well, it's not really our scene, is it?" he replied as she pushed him into the first store. It was one of the bigger ones, sot she had to pay closer attention to where she was pushing him, so he wouldn't get caught on anything, or hit any displays.

She shook her head, "No, not really."

As they talked, she kept to the edges of the racks of dresses, because it was hard for him to maneuver between them if she went any deeper. She started to pile the ones she liked in his lap. "I mean, we like to dance and listen to music and stuff like that, but just from the privacy of your bedroom in our pajamas." She examined a blue dress that was the same color as her highlights before dropping it into his lap.

"You know," he said hopefully, "we could just buy you some pajamas and I'll put on some slippers and we can go like that. We'd probably win best dressed couple."

"Nice try," she said as she started pushing him toward the dressing room.

Artie sighed as she began the long task of trying all the dresses on. They mostly looked the same to him and he couldn't really find anything else to say besides_ it looks great_ because that's really what they all were. Tina could easily pull off anything, from what he's seen her wear for different numbers in glee club. She could wear just about every color and style and make everyone in the room jealous, even if she didn't feel that way.

About a half-an-hour later, she finally decided on a strapless number. It was black and blue, her two favorite colors, that had this sort of diagonal life going across the front from the hip to about mid-thigh, and all the extra space was filled with a pleated blue material. He instantly liked that one more than all the others she'd tried on.

It didn't take long for her to buy it and start whizzing through other stores to find her shoes and jewelry and things like that. Artie kind of wondered why she hadn't asked Mercedes or Quinn or even Rachel to come with her to do this, but then was pulled back to what he always knew. They were _best friends_. And she trusted him and his opinion inexplicably. She could have as many girl-friends as she wanted but they would never really measure up to the kind of friendship that they had.

And that made him feel special.

After the fifth store they went in to, he asked, "Can we take a break?"

She nodded, "Yeah, my feet are killing me. I don't think these were the right shoes to wear shopping." She looked to the dainty but tight-looking pair of flats that were currently adorning her feet, "Let's go sit by the fountain."

He smiled and wheeled himself over to the huge stone fountain that took up the center of the mall. She sat down on the edge and slipped off her shoes, resting her tired feet on his footrest.

"So, are you excited to see Cassie tomorrow?"

He had thought about the upcoming visit a lot over the past few days. When he'd agreed to see her before Saturday, he was scared, but now he figured it was a good thing. He wouldn't be quite as out of practice as he would if he'd waited an entire week. He hoped it would be easier.

He also hoped that Cassie would be more comfortable to ask him questions that _weren't_ about his and Tina's relationship. He loved to talk about them, don't get him wrong, but there would have to be a point where he got down to business. He knew that the questions were probably building up inside of her, just waiting to come out. He also knew that story of when adults said that they would answer any questions that he could have possibly thought of, then skirted around the truth of the answers when he got up the courage to ask.

Eventually, he stopped asking. And he was willing to bet that she had gotten to that point as well.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Are you going to show her the stuff you picked out?"

He nodded. He intended to, at least. There was probably too much to fit entirely into one day, so he would probably start with the things that had gotten him through being in the hospital and through those first few years. He would show her all the pictures one day but even he wasn't ready to look at them again.

He didn't want to spiral into one of those black funks again. He was a completely different person when he was like that. Distant, snippy, and he pushed people away. He didn't want that to happen, especially now.

Tina could see the nervousness now clearly painted over his features. She took his hand, "It's not going to be a repeat of last week, Artie. I know it."

He smiled as she stood slightly and their lips met. Hers were soft, but a little bit forceful on top of his, but it remained romantic and playful, despite fact that there were crowds of people around them. It only lasted for a few moments before they parted.

They were just staring at each other, smiling, when they heard from somewhere behind them, "Hey, baby! Why don't you ditch the cripple and try a real man out for size!"

Tina closed her eyes for a moment and didn't respond. People had said things like this to her before. They didn't understand that Artie was a more capable boyfriend than most able-bodied men.

She had also been trying to keep her temper in check lately. That was always an issue that she'd had. She would bottle things up until she just exploded, like when she told Artie that she'd cut him in half with a righteous blade of equality when she was angry at him. She likes to believe that wouldn't have happened if she'd been open about her feelings up front.

But she really didn't want to go off on some stranger who she knew was just a jerk. A jerk who was probably insecure about the fact that they couldn't get a date while Artie had a girlfriend that loved him.

Another call erupted and it seemed like the entire mall had fallen silent to listen to the action. "I bet he can't satisfy you like a real man could!"

Tina didn't consider herself to be a mean person, but the moment she felt like she was being attacked, she sprung into action. The man—who couldn't have been more than seventeen, so he was really a boy—had moved closer now, to the point that she was able to pick out how it was. Even when Artie tried to grab her hand and stop her, she stepped forward, and allowed the fight part in fight-or-flight to rear its head.

"You think you're a real fucking man because you can hurl insults to me about a boy in a wheelchair? My boyfriend is more a man than you'll ever be because he doesn't have to bring other people down to feel good about himself. You're just a jackass. So I suggest you get the hell out of my face before I do something that I'll regret."

She wanted to punch him. Or at least kick him in the nuts, where she'd been taught to by her mother when she was six. Her lesson to her had been if a man ever did something that made her feel uncomfortable or unsafe, to go straight to where it would hurt.

"Maybe you should take your Midol before you leave the house, lady!"

"I will the same time you learn some damn manners!"

The boy, knowing that Tina wouldn't just give up and walk away if he continued, seemed to get the message at that point. He said, "Fuck you," before stalking off into the crowd that had formed around the fountain. Tina took a deep breath before turning to Artie, who was blushing bright red.

She got behind his chair and started to push him. She kept her head down as she quietly said, "Let's go find you a shirt to match my dress."

As they looked for a button-down that matched the blue color in her dress, it became clear that everyone had either seen or heard about Tina's outburst. They heard whispers and saw people pointing at them. A few brave people came up and praised her for standing up for herself and Artie.

However, he was distracted the entire time. Because he just couldn't shake the insults.  
A little while later, they were sitting at a table in the food court, sharing a plate of French fries when she asked, "Are you mad at me for yelling at that guy?"

"No, I just…"

She interrupted him, "Artie, don't even say what I think you're going to say. I don't _want_ a guy like that. I just want to be with you."

"But…why?"

She moved her chair closer to him, so they were sitting right next to each other, "Because you're sweet and handsome and you're my best friend. You make me feel more wanted and needed than anyone else. You make me laugh and I can cry in front of you and we have amazing musical chemistry." She laughed, "God, Artie, I could keep going on with things that I love about you and I'd still be able to find more."

He smiled, "I love you, you know."  
"Forever?"

"Well, I'll have to check my schedule…" he teased and he was met with a light shove to his shoulder, "But since I don't have it with me, I think I can make that work."

She grinned at him and stood up to kiss him quickly.

Over the years, Artie had learned that sometimes he just had to focus on the good things that people said about him, instead of the bad things. And if that meant he only had to listen to Tina for the rest of his life, then he would be a happy man.


	8. Chapter 8

**Here's Chapter 8.**

**Thank you to Miranda for looking it over, as always.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the songs in this chapter. **

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Artie arrived to Lima Memorial's pediatric ward five minutes before he was suppose to. He had kind of been preparing for another freak-out in the lobby, but his air passages hadn't closed up and the terror hadn't elevated, and it was surprisingly easy to get up the elevator.

Sure, the elevator had made him a little claustrophobic, but that was nothing new. Tight, enclosed spaces had always made him nervous.

That was beside the point. He had made it up without any difficultly. But now the nervousness had started to build up in his stomach and he didn't know what to do with his hands because of having to wait.

He looked around. The pediatric wing was just as he remembered it. It was more colorful than all the other wings. The desk where the nurses sat at was painted bright red, blue, and yellow. Enclosed by a circle, a sun with sunglasses was painted on the ceiling. The couches and chairs in the waiting area were plush and colorful. The coffee table was the shape of a lion, who he knew was smiling underneath the stack of magazines covering its face. There were toys everywhere and there was a mural of smiling children wrapped in bandages and wearing casts on one of the walls.

It was meant to be comforting, this design. And for a child staying here for days or weeks or even months at a time, he supposed it was. It was fun looking. It made everything seem like a play-land, when it really wasn't.

The colors, the inviting atmosphere, he just couldn't shake how eerie it was after all these years. This waiting room used to seem like paradise when he got to be in it, because of all the toys and the fact that he was hardly ever out of his room. The nurses used to fawn over him and play with him and ruffle his hair. But that was probably because they felt sorry for him.

He was often left alone for hours at a time. Both of his parents worked to keep up with the bills. His father worked from nine to five and his mother from eight to three, so neither of them were seen until at least four. His sister was in school and she usually didn't come to the hospital until one of their parents did.

The nurses became his friends. He can't remember how many hands of cards he played and rounds of checkers. They used to trade off spending time with him, because he was one of the only patients that needed more constant attention. In the middle of a game, they'd move his legs, or do the other things that they needed to.

He knew now that they were doing their job.

But he liked that someone came to see him. It's not like his school friends were running to the hospital to visit him.

He was sure they didn't even know, but still.

He wanted to shut his mind off. Being here was just bringing back all the memories he had been trying to push under the rug.

His gaze moved over to Tina. She was perfectly calm, reading a magazine with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Her plaid boots were, technically, crushing the lion's tail, but she didn't seem to notice as she flipped the page silently. Otherwise, she remained motionless, except for the flick of her fingers that only happened every so often. To some, she seemed engrossed in whatever she was reading. But to Artie who had watched people in this same position all the time, knew that she was just acting like a person in a waiting room.

You have to be quiet. You have to seem interested in something else. Or at least look like you are.

To keep his mind somewhere else, he checked to make sure that he had everything with him that he needed. Made sure he hadn't left anything in Tina's car. Beside him sat his guitar case, the first of the items that he wanted to show Cassie. It was always his intention to bring it out at some point. He wasn't sure when it would be appropriate, but now seemed to be as good a time as any.

Music transcends, he feels. It makes everyone feel more comfortable. It's a language that absolutely everyone speaks.

There was a lot less uncertainty this time around than there was before. He knew exactly what he was up against, more or less. He had learned last time what Cassie was like on the simplest of levels, which was just what he needed. He saw that he was meeting someone _just like him._

Someone that, despite all the bravery that she showed everything single day by just waking up in the morning, was still a child. A confused child that didn't even realize that their future had been ripped out from underneath them by…what? Someone else's recklessness? Being in the wrong place at the wrong time? At eight, her future was somewhat unclear, but now it was even murkier than before. She would spend those years that she _should_ be spending figuring out what her life was going to be like adapting to a new life that she was _never _expecting.

There were a lot of similarities between them. It was entirely possible that they were all just coincidences. In fact, Artie would bet on that. Cassie residing in the same room that he had and owning the same fairy-tale book that he was read to from was pure happenstance.

But when he looked in her eyes, he saw all the emotions that had been in his eyes when he was laying in that hospital bed eight years ago with nothing to do and no one to talk to that he felt like he could ask anything and be his friend.

He noticed that, as always, this floor was abuzz with life, but especially so right now. Because it was a weekday, they had to come during the regular visiting hours, even though he was technically volunteering and not visiting. But to each his own, he supposed.

He remembered this time of day when he was here. It was the most exciting, the most lively. He would always keep his door open in hopes that someone besides his family would come in and talk to him or play with him or _something._

Visiting hours were his absolute favorite time of day, aside from the hour or so afterward.  
When the nurse came to tell them that it was okay to go to Cassie's room, Tina asked, "Do you want me to stay here?"

He furrowed his brow. "No. Why? Do you want to stay out here?"

"I was just checking," she replied, standing up and throwing her magazine down with the others. She got behind his chair and started to push him toward the room.

The moment they were in the room, they were bombarded by Cassie, "Tina, Tina, look! I made you a picture! Look, see? That's you and that's Artie. You're getting married. I even drew you a cake. It's chocolate."

Tina took the paper from the smaller girl and showed it to Artie. For someone so young, it was a really good drawing. It featured them in the middle, dressed in traditional wedding garb. Even his glasses were the right shape and she had drawn tiny blue lines in Tina's hair for her highlights.

The only difference between what was drawn on the page and what was reality was the fact that Artie was standing. And he understood, because drawing a wheelchair, no matter what amount of artistic ability one had, was hard. He often used to draw himself able-bodied merely because it was _easier_ than drawing and re-drawing a wheelchair that would never look quite right on paper.

Cassie seemed to jump from one subject to another in a way that only a child could. She seemed to tell them—mostly Tina—about everything that had happened to her in the days since they last saw her.

She pointed to the case next to his chair, "What's that?"

"My guitar," he told her, looking down at the black case that was block against the white tile floor of the room, "I thought that maybe you'd like it if I played something for you." He pulled the case up onto the bed in some of the free space next to her and flipped the latches before taking the shiny acoustic out. "Tina and I are in our school's glee club and we have this assignment and we were thinking we'd sing what we're working on for you."

She nodded excitedly as Tina pulled up a chair next to him and drummed her fingers against the bed. She asked, "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

She began to clap out the beat that they felt hit an acoustic version of the song best. _Clap. Clap-clap. Clap_. After a few circuits of just that, he joined in with the guitar part. It was simple and quiet, but perfect. She started in with the first verse, her voice beautiful and clear.

_Happiness, hit her like a train on a track._

These lyrics had always spoken to her, to both of them. They provided each other with so much happiness. More often than not, they _were_ each other's happiness. Without each other, she wasn't sure where either of them would be. Probably not in glee club and probably alone too. That thought chilled her to the bone because she didn't know what she would do without Artie.

He provided her with so much comfort. So much support. Such a helping hand.

_Coming toward her, stuck still no turning back. She hid around corners and she hid under beds. She killed them with kisses and from it she fled. _

He remembers when they were a couple in secret, in the privacy of their homes and their minds. When it was just them, having this giddiness between them that was staggeringly wonderful, but also a bitch to keep a secret. She didn't want her parents or their friends to know just yet. Even if they were all expecting it to happen. She genuinely liked having their little piece of heaven to themselves. Maybe that was selfish.

She loved kissing him in the quiet of his bedroom when his parents weren't home, not having to worry about the outside world at all.

Soon, though, she felt troubled by the fact that no one knew. She couldn't hold his hand when they were sitting together in glee club or when they were across the table from each other at lunch. She couldn't give him a quick kiss in the hallway before she went to class.

When it was out there, though, it felt great. She didn't know what she had been afraid of.

Being happy, maybe. She had spent so much of her life being depressed about _something._ About drama at school or her home life. It was often just overall. So once she found something that made her oh-so happy, she wanted it all to herself. She didn't want anything or anyone to taint it.

_With every bubble she sank with a drink and washed it away down the kitchen sink._

They'd been doing the dishes together after dinner at his house one Friday night when they decided that they wanted to tell everyone about them. She remembered that quite clearly. He had just said, "Are you ready to tell everyone? Because I am if you are." He never pushed her to do anything she didn't want to. The fear that something bad was going to happen if they announced their relationship washed away with the soap and dirty water.

_The dog days are over. The dog days are gone. The horses are coming so you better run.  
_

Artie took over for the chorus because no matter how hard Tina tried, she always got the lyrics mixed up but that didn't stop her from singing along with him anyway.

_Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father, run for your children, and your sisters and brothers. Leave all your love and your loving behind you. Can't carry it with you if you want to survive. _

He had learned over time that he had to stop carrying the questions with him that he had been asking since the day he found out he was never going to walk again. They would _ruin_ his life, without any shadow of a doubt. He had to turn the why questions—such as _Why did this happen to me?—_into how questions. _How can I make this better? _

Tina stopped abruptly, falling into a fit of giggles, "No! I got it wrong again!" She gasped out through her laughter. She didn't seem all that upset about it.

Cassie clapped. "Can I touch your guitar, Artie? Please?"

Artie was a little bit hesitant. His guitar was his baby. Tina nudged his shoulder discreetly and nodded toward the child, "Sure," he said finally.

He put the guitar down on the bed and took her hand. He made sure his fingers were in the right place before saying before pointing to one of the strings, "Pluck that string right there," he told her. She did what he said and he was surprised when the sound wasn't all that bad. "Now this one." She smiled when her fingers touched the next string in just the right way to make the sound fill the room, "And now this one." He smiled at her when she moved her hand away, "You're a natural."

Cassie ducked her head but raised it when something caught her eye. Her hand disappeared into the abyss of his guitar case, which was filled with packages of strings and picks and sheet music, and she pulled out a photograph that had been taped to the bottom of the case.

She handed it to Tina, who examined it carefully, "It looks like you, Art." She pointed to the small boy in the photograph, "Except no glasses."

Artie pressed his lips together. He knew that that picture was in there all along. But the question was one: why hadn't he done a better job of hiding it, and two, why hadn't he just _taken it out_ before he came?

"Yeah, that's me."

"Who's this other guy?" she asked, showing him the picture even though he had it memorized in his mind, "That can't be your dad…"

"It's…it's not," he replied.

There was a reason that the time after visiting hours was his absolute favorite time of day.

And that reason was Landon.

A&T

His mother pressed a final kiss to his forehead before pulling the covers up around his shoulders, which he instantly shrugged down, just as he always did. "We'll be back tomorrow, sweetie. Sleep tight."

"'Night," he murmured, closing his eyes. He waited until he heard the quiet click of the door shutting before he opened one eye to make sure that everyone was gone. When he saw no sign of his mother coming back, he opened his other eye and threw off the covers.

He anticipated this time part of the evening all day long.

His door finally opened a minute or two later.

Landon was the only male nurse in the pediatric wing and Artie considered him his best friend in the hospital. He hated to deny anyone the title of "best friend" so he had a school best friend and his sister was his best friend and he had one at the hospital too. He felt like that was fair.

Artie didn't like to play favorites among the nurses, because they were all his friends, but he definitely was the most comfortable with Landon. He worked from eight in the morning until eight at night and he always stayed for an hour after his shift to hang out with him.

He rarely had visitors that weren't his family. At this point, none of his school friends had come to see him.

"Hey, buddy," Landon said, putting his messenger bag down on the bed of the bed, "What do you want to do tonight? Read a book? Start a movie?"

Artie rolled his eyes as if to say: _you already know_.

"Ah, yes," he replied, like he suddenly remembered. He bent down and slid the guitar case out from underneath the bed, "The guitar. Have you been flexing your fingers?"

He stretched his fingers out as far as he could make them go before balling them into little fists. He repeated the cycle a few times.

Landon couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old and Artie absolutely idolized him. His arms were covered in tattoos, his hair blonde and always spiked up just a bit. Every day, he wore black scrubs adorned with rainbow music notes, which made him easy to spot whenever he was passing by the room's window.

But even with the tattoos and being in a band, he had a very kind and approachable demeanor.

He used to just play songs for Artie. Covers of all of his favorites or ones that he'd written himself, whatever Artie wanted to hear on that particular night. That is, until he started asking if he would teach him how to play. Because he thought it looked fun. He wanted to be able to play like Landon could. He wanted his fingers to fly across the frets and pluck the strings like they held some sort of magic.

It didn't come as easy for him as he had thought, but he kept working on it. Every night, he would diligently focus on whatever Landon told him to do. Because for an hour each night, it took his mind off of everything else.

Gradually, his playing got better.

Landon handed him the guitar and adjusted his fingers but otherwise he sat back and listened to the smaller boy's playing, occasionally offering help and advice.

Artie sang sometimes but mostly he made sure his fingers were in the right place as he switched from chord to chord. He couldn't help it. He always looked at his hands when he was playing.

He loved the way the music felt when he was playing it. It wasn't just coursing through his ears when he was listening to it. No, he felt it everywhere. From the top of his head to the tips of…well, to his waist, where he stopped feeling anything. But all that music was buzzing around in that tiny, enclosed space. And it was fantastic.

The first song that Landon taught him to play all the way through was "Dancing With Myself." It probably wasn't the best song to teach an eight-year-old, but Artie was immediately taken with it. And what his mother didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

He was always mature for his age, anyway.

On that particular night, after the guitar had been put away, Landon sat down on the edge of his bed. "You have quite the voice, Artie."

The child ducked his head and shook it, "No, I don't."

"You shouldn't hide it," he replied, "Most people would give their right arm for a voice like that."

Artie didn't respond.

"You're not going to be afraid to sing one day. You are going to do big things with that voice."

It was one of the biggest compliments he'd ever received in his life.

A&T

It hadn't meant all that much to him at the time. Because he hadn't believed him. But after he learned a few more songs by heart, to the point that he barely even paid attention to what his fingers were doing, he did start singing more. And his family always liked what they heard. The other nurses always clapped after he gave them impromptu concerts.

He hadn't been in contact with Landon since he was discharged all those years ago. But that didn't really matter. Because when someone has made an impact on your life, you don't forget it.

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**Landon's name was suggested by imagalaxydefender on Tumblr. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, sorry for the delay on this one. First, after I got the chapter back from Miranda, I added a bunch of things and worked out some of the things I hadn't been happy with-so, if there's any grammatical errors, just attribute that to me adding things and don't blame my lovely beta, but hopefully there won't be any issues. School has also been a bit draining and I've been falling asleep earlier, so yeah. And finally, there's just generally been some issues., and I wanted to see if they'd work those out, but I just can't wait any longer. **

**So, with enough rambling and excuses on my part, here is chapter nine.**

**Thank you to Miranda for looking it over. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

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"He looks sad," Cassie said, looking from Tina to Artie and back again.

"You're right," Tina replied, poking his side, "I think we need to cheer him up."

Tina's fingers tickled up his side until she found the spot that she knew was his weak spot. Artie was the kind of person that was ticklish pretty much all over, but she was one of the few people that knew the spot that drove him absolutely insane. She used it to her advantage so often that she didn't have any difficulty finding it. She'd barely touched it before he had collapsed forward in a fit of laughter, holding his stomach to guard himself from her getting to his other ticklish spots.

"Get her back, Artie! Get her back!"

The small child seemed to be thrilled at the fun they were having together. To her, her family was not nearly as exciting as the two teens in front of her.

"Don't think you're off the hook!" Tina said, mimicking something like a superhero's arch enemy, "I'm gonna get you too!"

Tina grabbed Cassie's foot and tickled the bottom of it. When she got no response, not even a wiggle that told her to loosen her grasp, she just assumed that the girl wasn't ticklish on her feet. But when the room fell silent and she saw Artie shift uncomfortably, she immediately knew that she had done something wrong.

Cassie's tears began almost instantly, "Don't touch me! Don't touch my feet!"

Artie knew why she was so upset. Of course he did. It was alarming to see someone touching you and knowing you should feel it, but not being able to. And in your mind, you're thinking: _oh, it's okay. It'll kick in in a second. _But when it doesn't, your reaction is to be scared and confused.

It wasn't Tina's fault for not knowing. She touched his legs all the time and got nearly no reaction. Sometimes she would put her feet between his legs for warmth when they were watching movies together and he would see and give her a smile, but otherwise he just never noticed. Maybe he should have warned her.

Tina mumbled something that he didn't quite catch but sounded like _I'm going to go wait outside _as she left the room, her eyes cast downward toward the floor.

At this point, Cassie was downright sobbing, and Artie was torn as to what to do. He didn't know whether to go console his obviously upset girlfriend or to stay with this child who probably wanted nothing but the comfort of her parents.

But he knew that Tina was strong and he also knew that sometimes she didn't want him around right after something like this had happened. She would be more willing to talk when she had calmed down a bit. And so, with that logic, he stayed where he was.

_One thing at a time. _

Cassie had fallen back against her pillows, her head turned to face him as she cried. He reached up and smoothed down the hair, "I know it's weird, not feeling anything when you know that you should. Soon you won't even notice it. Don't cry, you're okay."

"No one understands," she sobbed. He knew that line probably wasn't something she'd come up with herself. Artie used to say things like that because he'd heard his older sister say them. The phrase was just…too old for her, in any other circumstance. But the dejected way it had come out of her mouth, with the tears streaming down her face, it sounded about as young as it was ever going to get.

"I do," he murmured, leaning his chin against his free hand, "I do so much, Cassie. I know _everything _you're going through."

She didn't respond, just continued to sniff and hiccup through her tears. He continued, "I can't sit here and tell you that everything is without-a-doubt going to get better. Because then I might be lying to you and who would that help? But I can tell you that, in time, you're going to get used to this. You're healthy aside from everything else and you're at least a little bit happy, right? You…you have to see the good."

His mother was constantly telling him things like that. She had spent the first two or three years after the accident trying to culminate a positive attitude in him. Showing him the things he was good at and trying to make it clear to him that not having the use of his legs didn't automatically mean that he couldn't do everything he wanted to. She would never say it in so many words, but he knew.

She wasn't so worried about him when he was eight—because he would have been happy no matter what. Back then, he still didn't understand the severity of his condition, because he was too naïve to grasp such a heavy topic.

She was preparing him for now, when the emotions and the hormones were swirling around at a constant high. She didn't want him to become too cynical.

He remembers some of the things he's said to Tina. _I sound like someone put tap shoes on a horse and then shot it. _And _I do a pretty good job of being in denial about the hopelessness of my condition. _Sometimes, it was hard for him not to be a little bit bitter about it all. He thinks that everyone is like that about their own specific problems. They mock them so they feel better about them.

Artie would admit that he didn't always listen to the things his mother told him. Sometimes he wanted to cover his ears because that was the only thing he would be able to do to keep from being mouthy or crying or feeling bad for himself.

His mother tried so hard to keep him happy and healthy and not dreading every single day of his life. But sometimes she spent so much time soothing him that he began to feel bad.

But now _he _had to say something at least halfway comforting to someone like she had so many times for him.

And maybe this is how the world had decided that he was going to repay her. For all his mother's sacrifices. Because she would never let him do anything for her directly. By helping this innocent little girl, he was using all those lessons that she had been trying to get through his head the past eight years.

His words didn't seem to make Cassie feel any better. His hand continued to stroke the soft blonde hair on her head.

"I know you probably won't believe me now but you do stop noticing it after a while. Tina can sit on my lap or play with my feet and it doesn't even bother me. Because the memory of what it's suppose to feel like fades away. You'll start to see that soon."

It's not the _lack _of feeling that's so alarming. It's the waiting for it to come and then realizing it's not going to. When he was by himself, he used to poke at his legs, thinking that one of the sharp taps would just kick-start the feeling again.

She doesn't appear to get it. Just like him, Cassie doesn't _understand. _He thought it was temporary. That his legs were just asleep and he would get to go home as soon as they woke up.

And the weeks passed with no change. Then they had him start practicing in a wheelchair.

At first, it was fun. His mother would always chide him for trying to get into the wheelchairs at the supermarket that he so desperately wanted to play with. But suddenly he got to wheel around as much they would allow him to.

It was soon after that that he realized that his legs were never going to work again.

Though he'd been told this many times in various ways, he hadn't believed it. But when he finally did, it was staggering.

He didn't cry about it. If he was being honest, he didn't really do anything. Because he didn't _want _to do anything but lay in his bed and watch movies and _not _think about it. _Do you want to practice, Artie? _used to be met with a resounding yes, but soon he avoided it at all costs. He would make excuses like he was too tired or he had a headache.

Because when he figured out that they were preparing him for a life in a wheelchair, the fun of getting to do something that he normally wasn't suppose to faded away completely.

At the time, his reasons for being worried and depressed were small. How was he going to ride his bike? How was he going to climb the stairs to his bedroom? Those were his biggest concerns. The aftermath of a major accident like his was the last thing on his mind.

"One day, you'll look back on these days and wonder why they were such a big deal. Why you were so scared. Because you'll be so used to this life that you'll start to forget what it's like to be anything else," he sighed and brushed some of her hair behind her ear, "You're just a little kid, I know, but believe me. It'll bet better. I was probably fourteen years old before I felt like I fully understood what happened to me. Why it was me and not someone else. And I came to realize that I could never change it, no matter how hard I wished for it. It doesn't mean that I can't enjoy my life."

It would be stupid of him if he didn't. He had become so good at finding ways around the things that people thought he wouldn't be able to do. People told him being in glee club was impossible because he couldn't dance in his chair, but he was able to seamlessly work himself into the routines.

Finding ways to do the things that he wanted to do, within reason, had become fairly easy for him.

Cassie probably hadn't half of the things he'd said. She had gone quiet a few minutes before, not that Artie had noticed, and her breathing had evened out. She was sound asleep.

What Artie did next surprised even him. He leaned down and kissed her forehead lightly and brought her blanket up to rest around her shoulders. He pushed away some of the hair that had fallen over her eyes and wheeled away from the bed, shutting the light off as he went.

He rolled to a stop in front of the nurses station, "When her parents come back, just tell them that she fell asleep."

He didn't have all the answers for her right now. And who was he to know if they would make a different or not? But he was going to try his best to find as many of them for her as he could.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi everyone! Here's chapter ten. I hope you all enjoy it.  
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**Reviews are much appreciated.**

**Thank you to Miranda for beta'ing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

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Now that he had tended to one of the problems that had popped up in the last half an hour, he had to find Tina, who was probably feeling absolutely horrible about what had happened. She wasn't sitting right outside of the door, like he'd been expecting, or curled up in one of the chairs in the waiting room. The nurses hadn't seen her either, so he began to roam the hallways, trying to figure out why she could have possibly gone.

Eventually, he found her in the maternity ward, looking at all the newborn babies. He wheeled up next to her, taking in all of the innocent, sleeping faces in front of them. He said, "Sorry I didn't come find you sooner."

"I needed a few minutes by myself," she replied.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Tina. You just…you're probably the first person besides a doctor who's done that. Touched her legs, I mean. When I was here, I'd have an imprint of my mom's ring on my cheek every night because she was afraid to touch me below the neck."

"What does that have to do with this?"

They continued to stare at the babies and not look at each other. He didn't think that this conversation needed eye contact. It was probably better this way. Because he didn't know if he would be able to talk to her if he could see her eyes. And she didn't know if she'd be able to listen.

"I'm trying to tell you that no one is as fearless as you are when it comes to Cassie. When it comes to people like her and me. Her parents are the exact same way mine were."

He'd observed them a bit when he'd been in the room at the same time as him. Last time, they tended to just let him talk to her without interference. They'd gone and gotten something to eat and catch up on their lives for an hour. Maybe they didn't want to butt in, he wasn't sure.  
But they reminded him so much of his parents that it was a little bit scary. The way that they would only touch their daughter's head and hair, the voices they spoke to her in. It was all so reminiscent.

Tina crossed her arms over her chest as if she was guarding her heart.

"You couldn't have reacted like that," she whispered.

He wasn't sure whether to tell her the truth and possibly make her more upset or tell her something to make her feel better. He thought for a minute for saying, "I…yes. The first few times. It's not really a response that I could control. It was instant. Unavoidable, just like that was. Instead of feeling in your legs, you have to feel in other places, almost."

"Wow, that makes me feel so much better."

He pondered as to how to respond to that. He knew that she was upset and she didn't know what to say to any of this. He had never been _dishonest_ with Tina, per say, but he did evade the truth a lot when it came to talking about his condition. He was vague with her. It wasn't like he felt like it wasn't any of her business, because it kind of was. One day it would get to the point that she would have to know, but for now, he liked that things were good between them. Simple.

He was a hard subject him for him to talk about, to explain. He knew the stories, he knew what he felt, but he wasn't sure how he was ever going to put it into words.

And there were certain things that, frankly, he just didn't remember. He has absolutely no recollection of being in the ICU, for example. He was so drugged up to keep him stable and pain-free from all of his various injuries that that entire week of his life is just…gone.

The last things he remembers is the few minutes before the accident, then nothing. Nothing in the next seven days, at least.

In some ways, he feels like that's probably a good thing. His family was the most distressed them and he still doesn't know if he would have been able to handle that.

"Let me be honest," he said, watching one of the nurses pick up a baby and hand it over to a beaming new mother, "It would upset me if anyone came too close too quickly. After an accident like that…nothing can be too sudden. She wasn't expecting you to do that, Tina. And it wasn't wrong, what you did. That reaction isn't something you should take personally. If she's _anything _like me, she'll spend the next few years just relearning all these things that used to be easy, like having people come close to her."

What he was telling her was more true than she would ever know. She'd met him probably a year after he'd stopped flinching when people came up to him too fast. Artie didn't have that issue at all anymore, unless under special circumstances. He could let Tina sit on his lap and he didn't mind when she'd come up behind him so quickly that he wondered if she'd appeared out of thin air.

But when he was in the hospital, even his own mother had to inch into the room, as not to scare him and get him upset.

"Just like me, she has to learn how to balance everything. Her emotions, the way she deals with life,_ everything_."

For the last eight years, it seemed like the most important thing in his life was balance. Having some kind of routine. A plan of action. Whether it was a back-up plan or a way to get out of something that made him uncomfortable or he just couldn't do, there was always something he could turn to. He needed to have some kind of day-to-day pattern. Something that gave him that sense of normality that constantly evaded him. So many years were spent trying to hammer down a routine. Finding out what worked and what didn't.

He, quite literally, lead a life of trial and error.

Sometimes that bothered him. Especially when it comes to the things that he loves but can never fully do. Like dancing. Or being that normal boyfriend that he so wanted to be. Everything had to be adapted and adjusted for him. He can't count how many times his mother had spent hours on the phone with the school, trying to get him the things that he needs. Special buses. A key to elevator. Extra time to get to his classes.

He's seen how people roll their eyes when he can't do something and it hinders the rest of the group. Like that's _his_ fault. Like a car accident was entirely upon his shoulders.

It would never be easy, he knew that. Because he lived in a world that wasn't made for him.

The fact that he could never do things on the fly annoyed him too. Everything had to be set in stone well in advance.

Spontaneity was not a word in the vocabulary of his life.

Tina tried to interject that sense of never knowing what was going to happen into his life with the things that he could do easily. She'd call on a Saturday morning to go explore the town they knew so well. Or go to see a movie that looked cheesy.

Once, she'd gotten him out of the house at eleven at night, claiming to his mother that she was having a crisis and needed him to come over right away. Really, she just wanted to go to the grocery store and push him as fast as she could down all the empty aisles. They'd had races in the cereal aisle, him in his chair, her on a shopping cart.

There's a problem with leading a balanced life. Sometimes it's impossible, because you're almost never the only one in the equation. You have to take other people's balancing act into account. The world is a million personality and ability levels all in one big melting pot.

He had to balance the time he spent with his family and the time he spent with his friends. His friends and his girlfriend. His girlfriend and by himself. Everything would crumble if one thing was laid on too heavily.

And he knew the line. Like when he would start to get frustrated when he was with a group of people for too long. He would be tired. He would want a moment to himself.

Everyone has to make do with the situation that they're in. He had a pretty good life. He had a family that loved him and a roof over his head. He had understanding friends. A supportive girlfriend. And, of course, he was alive. So easily he could have been dead.

From what he's been told, if a few extra seconds had gone by, it was a lot more likely that he could have died.

It wasn't something someone should dwell on. You should just count your blessings and move on when it comes to almost dying. Also, it hadn't really had that big of an impact when he was eight. By the time he was out of his drugged out state, the fact that he could have died had kind of blown over. Everyone was focused on him recovering.

If he had even been two years older than he had been, well, he thinks his parents would have spent a lot more on therapy than they already had.

He was glad that he had been naïve enough to not even have it be a passing thought. He wouldn't have known if someone hadn't explained it to him. Told him how lucky he was.

But really, was he lucky? He was alive, so he supposed so. He would rather be alive than dead, but was being this way really a fair exchange? A life for his legs.

Tina put her hand against the glass, watching all the happy people smiling and shredding tears of joy. She felt like crying too, but not for the same reason as them. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty .Artie had just expressed to her that she shouldn't. But she couldn't help it. She had just made a little girl cry. How could she not feel bad?

Despite the fact that they still weren't looking at each other, Artie took this lull in the conversation as a chance to reach other and take her hand, squeezing it.

She sighed and finally turned to face him. "I didn't hurt her, did I?"

She was surprised when he chuckled, "Tina, of course not. You just scared her a little, that's all."

"Why are you downplaying this?"

"I'm really not," he replied, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand, "I doubt she'll remember or care about this in the morning."

"Why are you so good at making me feel better?"

"Years of practice," he smiled, "Are you ready to go?"

She left go of his hand, "Yeah."

She put her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt as he cast one more glance at the babies in their incubators before putting his hands on his wheels in preparation to start moving.

Those babies had it easy. They didn't know how complicated the world was yet.


	11. Chapter 11

**It seems like forever since I've uploaded a new chapter! I got what into what I like to call the "eleven chapter slump." If you follow me on Tumblr, then you've seen how very frustrated the slump was for me. But hopefully we're past that and I'll be posting with more regularity again. Anyway. Without further ado. **

**Thank you to Miranda for beta'ing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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In the last year, Friday nights had become an important ritual for both Artie and Tina. When it was just the two of them, each others' only friend, it was easy. They got together when they wanted, did whatever they pleased, and never really had to work around anything. After they joined glee club, they suddenly had all these friends that wanted to do things with them, and they had a harder time trying to find time to just be together.

Which was an odd thing to say, considering how much time they _did _spend together. They had multiple classes and lunch together, they had glee club every day, and they were always doing things with their friends. But the problem was that often did things with other people. And by the time Friday rolled around, they were both so tired of other people that they just wanted to fall onto the couch and just be alone with each other.

They were similar in this aspect: they both tired of other people easily, but never each other.

Tina was in his room, changing after an extra-long glee rehearsal. It had become routine that every Friday, that they practiced from three to seven. They weren't practicing the entire time, but it was pretty draining, and it did bode a change of clothes afterward.

As soon as she was finished, they could state their…date, he supposed. He was never the type of person that liked the term "date night." It seemed like something that was deserved for those lovey-dovey couples that called each other 'snookums' and needed some special label to make everything that involved just the two of them seem more special than it was. Getting to spend time with Tina was special, absolutely, but he would rather have the experience be special than the name.

Also, if they called it "date night," then nearly every night would be "date night."

As he put the movie Tina had picked out in the DVD player and got snacks out of the kitchen, the hall light went off, as did the ones in the living room, and she plopped herself down on the L-shaped couch. He set a bowl of popcorn on the side table and locked his brakes, making the easy transfer from his chair to the spot beside her. She had the remote in her hand as she curled herself into his side. He arranged his legs before wrapped his arm would her shoulders.

This would probably be their only opportunity to see each other until Monday. Tomorrow, Saturday, Artie was going to see Cassie for the first time by himself. He'd asked Tina if she wanted to go with him, but she'd declined. He was pretty sure that one of the reasons was that she still felt bad about what had happened on Wednesday, but she also had to be home to do her once-monthly mother-daughter bonding time thing. He knew it wasn't her favorite thing in the world, but it was important to her mother.

He wasn't nervous, exactly, about going by himself. It would just be weird not having that support that he was so used to. He wouldn't have her hand to hold when he got nervous or when Cassie's life seemed eerily similar to his. No one would be there to take over when he just needed to have a minute to process everything. Maybe, in some ways, that was good. It would allow him to take the leap. But that didn't make him any less scared to have to do this.

Until then, however, he was just going to focus on what was happening right now. Like many Friday nights, Tina was sleeping over. To anyone else, it would be weird to say that your girlfriend is sleeping over at your house when your parents are home, but it was normal for them. They'd been having sleepovers since they were twelve years old.

The only thing about their sleepovers that was different from other friendships was that theirs were always at his house. With other friendships, he knew that it was common to switch off, but that just…wasn't possible for them. Her house wasn't the most accessible—her room was on the second floor—and there was also a lot of things he needed that her house would never have. And that wasn't her fault.

Most houses just weren't equipped with the wide doorways and special bathrooms he had to have. And the low counters and the hundreds of other little things that made so much difference in the way he did everyday things.

But to them, a Friday night at his house was just like a Friday night with someone of the same gender. They lounged in his living room, joked around, and ate every possible trace of food in all the cupboards.

Sometimes, though, he _did_ wonder if she wanted the things that he couldn't give her. Girl-talk and stuff. But when she did want that, she found ways to include him in it. Like the time when she pulled off his socks and painted his toe nails electric blue, then proceeded to teach him her technique for nail painting. And soon he became the only one she trusted besides herself to paint her nails. It was an honor that he kept to himself.

It had been weird for a while, right after they started dating. Not for them, no…it was fantastic, the time they got to spend together. Movie nights normally spent just sitting next to each other now included held hands and stolen kisses. But it was weird for their parents, his especially, because they were spending a lot of their time at his house.

Not a week after they'd announced to their families that they were dating officially, the two sets of parents had sat them down in the Abrams living room for a talk. They didn't have many ground rules to set up, because they trusted them not to do anything stupid, but Tina's father had been quite blunt about it. While no one could necessarily _stop_ them from having sex, they would all prefer that they waited until they could actually support a baby.

They didn't go into any of that: _you have to be married_ stuff. The un-religious nature of the Abrams family came into play there, and there was also the fact that his parents had instilled in him that he didn't have to be married to someone to love them like a husband loves a wife. A label like that didn't define love. Tina's parents' reason were along the same lines.

The point was: they were happy that their children had finally seen that they were perfect for one another, but there was going to be no unplanned pregnancy. Otherwise, they were free to continue what they were doing before.

This Friday night was different than a lot of the others they'd had in the past. Usually, they were smiling and laughing, unless something big had happened. But now Tina was holding one of his hands between both of hers, biting her lip to hold in the tears that he saw were threatening to escape. There were already two tracks of tears from when she had started crying earlier in the movie. He wasn't even exactly sure what they were watching—it was her turn to pick and he had never heard of the movie. He didn't think she would pick something so…heavy, especially after the week she'd had. Usually, when she was upset, it was all comedies.

He moved his head to whisper in her ear, "Are you sure you don't want to watch something lighter?"

His free hand moved to her waist to rub a soothing circle there, in an attempt to comfort her.

"I chose this on purpose," she replied, a hint of a waver in her voice, "I _wanted _to cry. Don't you ever feel like that, Artie? Don't you just have a way to release everything you're feeling in a completely non-dramatic way? Sometimes…well, it's kind of nice. I can sit here with you and know that I won't have to worry. There doesn't even have to be a reason. It just happens and even if you weren't upset, you come out feeling _so much better_."

He shrugged and rested his chin on her shoulder. He just…couldn't do that, what she did. Artie hadn't cried in front of anyone—besides his sister—in years. It both scared and bothered him, how emotional he could get if he was in the right mindset. He could cry with the best of them; he could cry almost as much as Tina, who was an admittedly emotional person. But it was always alone, in his room, when he didn't have to worry about anyone catching him.

It weakened him. And he was already seen as a weak person. He didn't need to give anyone more reason to think so.

He can't count how many times he has wiped away Tina's tears. But she has never wiped away his.

Ever since they'd started dating, Artie enjoyed waking up in same bed as Tina far more than he ever had in the past. Mostly because before he hadn't been able to wrap his arms around her and press kisses to her hair or feel her breath in the crook of his neck. Well, he supposed all of those things _could_ have happened, but it would have been a little weird. That was beside the point, though. Waking up next to Tina was one of his absolute favorite ways to start off a day. And that included waking up to perfect weather and chocolate chip pancakes.

He wished that they could just lay there forever and sleep all day—that prospect sounded better than anything he had heard all week, really—but he knew that they had to start their days. It would be a long one for both of them.

He sighed and leaned his head against Tina's. The house was quiet. There wasn't a single sound besides the consistent whirl of the fan across the room and their breathing. He knew that his parents were gone—his mother had to work the early shift on Saturdays and his father often left him to his own devices to go golfing with his friends from work. He enjoyed the peacefulness a Saturday morning brought.

They had the house to themselves, though they didn't have much time to take advantage of that.

Tina stirred a few minutes later and threw her leg over him, effectively getting them closer than they were before. "This is a dream," she said, "A dream where we both go back to sleep."

"I wish," he replied, "Come on, Tee. Get up. I'll make you coffee."

"Mmm," she murmured, "With that hazelnut stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she sighed, "But I'm only getting up because I want the coffee, not because you told me to."

"I wouldn't expect it to be any other way." Then she moved to get up and he grabbed her hand, "Hey."

"Yes?"

He smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips, "Good morning."

Twenty minutes later, Artie was in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug when Tina emerged. She smiled at him gratefully as she took a sip, leaning against the wall next to the counter. Her hair was wet—she often took advantage of his private bathroom, never bothered by the strange equipment in there—and she was wearing one of his many sweaters.

Tina had absolutely no fear when it came to being in his house. Besides her own house, this was the place that she was most at home. He was convinced that anyone else besides her would be uncomfortable being in his house the way she has been. Some of their friends had been over, sure, but none of them had seen his room, and he tried to keep them out of the kitchen as much as he could.

His house was where he was able to just live the way that was the easiest for him, but he always felt self-conscious about the things in his house that were outside the norm. He usually kept them in the living room, where it was fairly normal. He knew that he shouldn't feel that way, but he still did.

Tina had been able to enter his world in a way that no one else outside his family had ever been able to. In limited detail, she knew about the strange routines he had to go through, and the medical anomalies—well, they were medical anomalies to most people—that he always had hanging over his head. She took it all with a grain of salt. That was _his_ life and she wouldn't worry about it if she didn't have to. One day, he would tell her everything, but now he was happy that she wasn't bothered by how little she knew.

He's glad that she didn't know him before his accident. Because then all of his medical quirks wouldn't be as…_normal. _

"Comfortable?" he asked, motioning to his sweater. It was a black one, with red and tan accents. Not one he wore very often, so he didn't mind that she was wearing it. She often took his clothes from his closet and he had to admit, she looked _really_ good in them.

"Very," she replied. He turned his gaze downward, shaking his head as he poured himself a bowl of cereal, "Don't give me that look. I'm small, I get cold easily. And your house is freezing."

He held up his hands, "The only look I was giving you was one of pure awe, Sweet Pea. Because you look way sexier in that sweater than I do."

Artie had been calling Tina "Sweet Pea" for pretty much the entire course of their relationship. Because of her feministic ethics, she refused to be called "baby" by anyone and he felt that his preferred sentiment of "woman" wasn't all that romantic or endearing. But the nickname came from one of his favorite songs to sing to her—Amos Lee's "Sweet Pea." It just kind of clicked into place.

_Well_, he would say to her, _You are the only reason I keep on coming home. That and my Xbox is here_.

"I think that's debatable," she told him, taking another sip from her mug and sitting down at the table as he took a bite of his breakfast.

They continued with their playful banter until she decided that she had stalled long enough and had to leave. They stole a few more kisses than necessary in the doorway before she got off of his lap and finally made her way to her car. He sat on the porch until she had disappeared from sight.

He then went inside to get ready to leave. His mother would be coming back during her lunch break to give him a ride. He didn't bother with showering—not enough time—but he did brush his teeth and tried to make his hair look like he hadn't just been having a make-out session with his girlfriend.

He was clipping his suspenders onto his pants when his mother appeared at the door.

"Did you have a nice time with Tina?" she asked as he adjusted his glasses. He smiled and nodded. She smiled in return, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling on his gloves and following her out.

The ride to the hospital was fairly silent. There wasn't really all that much to say. His mother knew that Artie would be able to do this. He had already showed an immense amount of bravery just through what he had done in the last week.

She also knew her son well. Encouraging him and telling him that everything was going to be fine was just going to make him more nervous. Positive reinforcement didn't have a well…positive effect on him.

She stopped in front of the hospital and lowered the ramp so he could roll down. After giving her a small wave, he made his way inside, and up the elevator to the pediatric ward.

Even after only a few visits, the routine of stating his name and business and waiting for the nurse to call him in had become…normal.

When he was allowed inside, he wheeled toward the door. Cassie was sitting on her bed, coloring. But her head snapped up when his wheels squeaked against the almost overly clean floor. "Artie!" she squealed, "You're back!"

He nodded and rolled up to her bedside. She held out her arms to him. He cocked his head to the side slightly before realizing that she wanted him to hug her. So he leaned forward and did so. She was small, much smaller than Tina, and he almost felt like he could crush her. And that was not a feeling he got very often.

"Where's Tina?" she asked, holding up a folded piece of paper, "I made her a card."

Artie didn't look at the card as he took it from her and slipped it into his backpack. "She had something she had to do today," he told her, "But we can have fun without her, right?"

She nodded him and handed him another piece of paper, "I drew this for you."

She had drawn and labeled it quite well. They were both standing and it didn't really surprise him. They were also holding hands and they seemed to be on a hill or something. But what immediately caught his eye was the words written above them._ Best friends_. He ran his finger across the words. "Why did you write that?"

"Because you are my best friend," she replied, "You come to visit me and you stayed with me when I cried."

He pressed his lips together. Her reasoning was quite valid. If someone that wasn't an adult had come to visit him more than once, he would have considered them his best friend too. Because everyone needed someone that could take their mind off of all the stressful things that were going on. He didn't know if he was exactly that for her, but sometimes it felt like they thought so similarly that it wouldn't surprise him.

"I know Tina is your best friend," she said, "but can I be your best friend too?"

The question was so…innocent. And she sounded like she truly didn't want to step into Tina's territory. He smiled, "Of course you can."


	12. Chapter 12

**I know, I know. It truly has been a million and one years since I've updated. That I can really only explain is because of writer's block. I wasn't entirely sure where I wanted to go because my original plans for the middle of this story just...don't fit anymore and still really don't what's going to happen between now and the part that I am absolutely sure about. So. I promise it won't be three months until the next chapter, but I can't say when a new one will be up after this.**

** This one's a fairly short chapter, a bit of filler really-kind of because I just want to get back in the writer swing and partly because I lost my notes for this chapter-but things will pick up again next chapter. Okay. Enough rambling and excuses.  
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**As always, thanks to Miranda for editing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

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"You can use my crayons," Cassie said, holding out a worn pack of Crayolas to Artie. The crayons inside were just stubs and he knew that she probably spent long hours by herself, doing nothing but coloring. While it wasn't exactly the same, he was well aware of the quiet, somewhat monotonous activities one would do in the hospital. There wasn't much room to play to begin with…and you can't really play when your legs don't work.

She tore out of a piece of paper from the pad in front of her. He noticed immediately that this was not the type of pad that a normal little girl would have. It was expensive, the type that a real artist would use. He knew how expensive it was, because he'd gotten one for Tina for her birthday. One would think that a bound book of paper wouldn't cost that much, but he was wrong on that front.

He knew what that book meant. _Sorry your legs don't work, here's something expensive to make up for it. _He remembers so clearly his own mother bringing him matchbox cars and Legos every night.

It was more for her than for him, he figured out eventually. It wasn't that she wanted to give him gifts all the time, but going into a store and picking something out was a task that required enough thought process that she didn't have to think about what was happening with her son just a few miles away.

And when he would open the bag and smile, she would smile.

It was this…cycle. Two smiles and two bouts of guilt, temporarily lifted. For his mother, seeing him smile meant that maybe he could get through this, lead a life that wasn't necessarily normal, but normal _enough. _And to Artie, seeing his mother smile lifted some of the sadness that seeing her as a shell of what she used to be.

He wondered if Cassie would grow to have that kind of relationship with her parents.

He would never say it out loud, but the relationship that he has with his mother is his favorite thing in the world. And sometimes, it's the only thing that keeps him going during those weeks where nothing goes right, or those times when he just wants to curl up into a ball and cry because no one seems to get it like she does.

Maybe that's just a motherly thing but he doesn't think so. It's more two people who have gone through something hardly anyone else has. She was, is, and will always be his biggest support system.

"What do you think?" Artie asked, holding up his drawing.

She titled her head, "What's it suppose to be?"

"Me and Tina. See?"

She looked like she still didn't believe that that was what was on his page. "You're silly."

He gasped, "Silly for Tina!"

The small girl laughed. It was a pretty sound, the kind of sound that only a child could remembered being in that same bed and how everyone would turn their head when he would laugh. Like it was some big miracle. He never really understood until later that no one was expecting him to laugh or smile.

Most of the things pertaining to his accident he didn't understand until later in life. Some of the things just didn't make sense and made perfect sense later on, but some things were the other way around. It was such a…complex situation, that he doesn't think he would have been able to process any of it at that time. It wasn't intentional, but he took many things at face-value then. Probably as most children did, but in this situation, he never went any deeper than what was right in front of him until he absolutely had to.

He spent the next few hours with Cassie. There was this new…attachment. He didn't want to leave her. He knew that her parents were lurking and she wouldn't be alone for more than a few minutes after he was gone, but…still. He just wanted to wrap her up and take her away from this place. So she could have real fun and do things that the other children could do.

That was the moment he realized that there was no turning back on this now. And it was an interesting feel. Something like pride…or accomplishment…and something else that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Upon returning home, he balanced the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he dug through his closet, looking for a box that he had long forgotten.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, little brother?" Ali asked. He could hear the joking tone of her voice and he laughed.

"Did you get a lot of toys when I was in the hospital?"

"Money," she replied, "Ten bucks every time Mom and Dad couldn't take me somewhere. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking about it."

"I presume you were at the hospital today?"

"You presume correctly," he pulled the box off of the floor and into his lap before turning around and setting it on the bed, then moving his hand up to the phone.

"You know, I'm proud of you for doing this."

"I know," he replied, opening the box, sifting through the matchbox cars and Legos and other little toys and trinkets. "It's weird…it's like seeing a female version of me. And I can relate to everything…"

"I'm not surprised," she said, "I mean…it is, in theory, the _exact _the same situation."

"Well…I guess."

"From what you've told me, it sounds like the same thing."

He put the phone on speaker, then transferred onto his bed, "I don't know."

"You'll see it eventually."

"Whatever you say," he said. He deliberated for a moment, "Are you home yet?"

"Just walked in," she replied and he could hear her keys clank as she set them down, and the door of her dorm shutting behind her. His sister made a shushing noise and he wasn't exactly sure, but he was pretty sure that it was toward her roommate. "Why?"

"I was wondering…if maybe you'd read to me for a little while?"

He could hear the smile in her voice, "Let me put my bag down."

He nodded despite the fact that she couldn't see him and he set the phone down to pull his shirt over his heart and drape the covers over himself. He took the phone off speaker, lying down.

"Okay," she said and he could hear her bed creak as she got comfortable, "Chapter one…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Finally, a new chapter. I know, I know. I said I'd be more frequent, but at least it wasn't as long as last time. It occurred to me a few days ago I was going out things the wrong way and now I know exactly where I'm going and things should pick up again, hopefully. There's really no updating schedule, so, yeah.**

**Miranda looked over this as always, so a thank huge thank you to her. Though any errors are probably from the things I added at the last minute. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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Months passed. Three, to be exact, and Artie's life was going as good as ever, or as good as it could be, he supposed. He and Tina were still going strong, despite a few spats that caused her to storm out of his house, disheveled with only one shoe on, but that was to be expected with any couple. He was doing well in school, had all of his volunteer hours out of the way, and the glee club was going to Nationals. For possibly the first time in his life, things were just…good. Steady, unproblematic, and simple.

Despite the fact that he had finished his volunteer hours almost two months ago, plus about ten extra, he continued to visit Cassie with astounding regularity. Twice a week, at least. Three or four if glee rehearsal was short or his homework load was light. Tina went with him occasionally, but most of the time he went by himself. And at that point, that was alright with him. In fact, he kind of liked it.

A place that once used to terrify him now had become kind of like home. Again.

It was strange—he'd never been able to pinpoint the cause of his fear. Nothing particularly bad had happened to him here. He ran into a few walls when testing out his wheelchair, got a few painful blisters on his hands, but otherwise, he just did a lot of sitting around. It was just that overwhelming sense that he couldn't get out of there. He had spent so many months that he just felt…trapped. It's not a definite answer to one of those questions that never truly has one, but it was good enough for him.

It never really used to keep him up at night, but it had a few times in the past few months. Just questions of _why? _He felt like he probably could have helped a lot of kids in his situation through this process if that fear hadn't been there, or if he'd powered through it.

Cassie was getting to that point that he remembered getting to. A constant state of boredom. It was still that fairly yucky part of winter, but the sun was shining more often, it was even a little bit warm on some days. Mostly though, it was just gross out. But she was still a kid, a kid that probably would've liked to have gone sledding during the winter, or make a snowman, or something of that sort. He could see the wistfulness in her eyes when she'd look at the window, probably imagining what could be.

Artie knew that story all too well.

It was the time of year he hated the most. He spent much of his time trying to dry his wheels so he didn't slide on every surface and he'd been thrown in more than his fair share of snow banks. Snow just gave people incentive to toss him around like a sack of potatoes.

For the first time, well…ever…he was visiting Cassie someplace other than the hospital. She had been released just a few days before and he agreed to start coming to her house once or twice a week. He had already been there once, when he went with his mother to help Cassie's parents test out newly adapted doorways and other amenities, too make sure that she'd be able to navigate both now and when she got older. Things checked out on that one.

"You know," Tina said, loading a child's sized wheelchair into the back of her car, "It's really nice to give Cassie one of your old wheelchairs."

"She can't go around in the hospital one forever," Artie replied, "Plus, when am I ever going to use it? It just sits in the attic collecting dust. And you made it all pretty for her anyway."

When Artie had suggested the idea to his mother, she had gotten behind it immediately. Wheelchairs for a child aren't _horribly _priced, but they aren't cheap either, and his mother understood that fact. Purchases of wheelchairs in various sizes had become quite an expense over the last few years, but he was finally to the point that he was in the size that he would most likely be in for the rest of his life.

Tina had gotten the chair down for him from the attic over the garage one day after school, took one look at it, and said, _A little girl would never use this. _Upon protest, she pointed out the dinosaur stickers stuck to various places, the racing strips on the sides, and the upholstery was bright yellow, cracked, and stained. She took it into her care that day and spent a week on it, cleaning it up and making it more like something that _wasn't _a hand-me-down wheelchair.

Tina gave him a ride to Cassie's, helping him get the wheelchair up to the door. Her mother answered, letting them inside.

He was sure that their house looked different before Cassie's accident. Now, it was still a bit of a construction zone, with furniture pushed into the most convenient places, and tool boxes in just about every room. He maneuvered around the obstacles and Tina followed behind him with the folded up wheelchair underneath her arm.

Cassie's face brightened when they entered the room. "Is that it? _Is that it?" _Artie smiled and nodded. She had been ecstatic about the prospect of Tina fixing up a wheelchair for her and she had asked him about it every time they'd seen each other since he'd told her about it. In retrospect, if he had known he'd been saying "_no, not yet" _so many times, he would've just surprised her with it.

Tina unfolded the chair and set it up next to the bed. Cassie hadn't gotten the hang of transferring quite yet, so Artie put his hands on her hips and lifted her up, setting her carefully in the seat. She adjusted herself and Artie backed up, letting her wheel around the room.

"Do you like it?" Tina asked hesitantly. Artie wanted her to stop worrying, because she had almost gone out of her way to make sure it was perfect. The pink upholstery matched the walls of Cassie's bedroom, the tassels coming off the handlebars had were curled to perfection. There were even butterfly stickers were there were once dinosaurs. He wasn't a girl, of course, but he thought that it was pretty awesome.

"I love it!" Cassie told her, "Thank you, Tina!" She wheeled up to his girlfriend and threw her arms around her waist, burying her nose in Tina's stomach.

"I'm glad," Tina replied, patting Cassie's hair. She looked over at him until the younger girl let go, then said, "I'll pick you up in an hour?"

He nodded and she kissed the side of his face before leaving the room.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked, looking around her room. She wheeled over to the toy box, pulling out a Barbie and a Ken doll, handing him the Ken. He followed along with the story she was producing for a little while before fading into conversation with her, "Are you excited to go back to school?"

She shrugged, continuing to make her Barbie doll make through the air, "Will they laugh at me, Artie?"

He pressed his lips together. People hadn't laughed at him, per say, but people had tended to gawk at him back then. In those first few years, he always felt like more of a circus attreaction than an actual person. Especially because of the kids in his class, who would stare and would just watch him struggle when things got caught in his wheels. He finally said, "I don't know."

He didn't want to make her afraid. In a way, he wanted to keep her mind pure for just a little while longer. Because it was hard to peg children's reactions. Her situation might be one hundred percent different than his. She might be accepted back in almost immediately. All of her old friends may come back to her. Or it could be worse—she could be friendless and an anomaly among her peers. There were really a million ways it could go. He didn't want to put a single bad thought in her head.

It reminded him of when his sister would say, _"you'll just have to find out," _when he asked about middle school, or later high school. She didn't want to taint his mind with bad thoughts and she also didn't want his expectations of anything to be too high, in the event that he could be disappointed.

"Will you go with me?" she asked, making her Ken and Barbie kiss, not looking at him, "Will you tell them about us? About people like us?"

He didn't mull over this decision, like he had so many others, he just said, "Of course."


	14. Chapter 14

**That was fast, now wasn't it? I'm honestly surprised but I woke up yesterday and this chapter just flew out. So yay. We're nearing the home stretched-depending on how I split it up, it'll probably be somewhere between three and five more chapters, possibly six or seven. We'll see how it goes. Hopefully I can get those out with the amazing regularity of the last two chapters. **

**Thank you to Miranda for editing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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_Chop. Chop. Chop. _ "Hand me that cucumber, would you?"

Artie handed over the vegetable and watched Tina begin to chop it into thick slices. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hand. There was something about her in the kitchen that was somehow…comfortable. He couldn't cook to save his life, unless it was a microwave dinner, and though Tina was no culinary master, she made a mean plate of spaghetti and cucumber salad.

There was also the possibility that he just liked the sound of a knife against the cutting board. It reminded him of the days between being released from the hospital and going back to school, when he would spend a lot of his time helping his mother in the kitchen. She wouldn't let him anywhere near a knife, but as she would chop she would give him things to snack on, even if she did claim that it would ruin his dinner.

A knife against a cutting board was the sound of freedom to him.

Tina looked up and smiled at him, reaching down to brush back his hair.

He didn't exactly know where he and Tina were going sometimes. There were moments like it would seem to last forever, where she'd talk about marriage and children with him and things like that, and then there were others were it seemed like they could be broken up by next week.

Cassie had told him at their own little tea party just hours before that he and Tina were made for each other. An astute comment for an eight year old, and she had even made the Ken and Barbie analogy. But that was the thing about a child—they always expected the best, especially in matters of love. _Don't you want to marry her, _she'd asked. And honestly, that thought had crossed his mind once or twice. And then he would always realize that he was sixteen and kind of an idiot.

But people always imagine their lives ten years down the road—and his always happened to have Tina there.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Well, currently," she said, continuing to move her knife over the vegetables, "I'm thinking about not chopping off one of my fingers."

"You know what I'm talking about." He took a cucumber off the cutting board and munched on it when she waved her knife jokingly at him.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she was focusing on her chopping, not looking at him as she shrugged her shoulders, "You seemed to have your mind made up already."

"But do you think it's a good idea?"

Though it wasn't necessary to have Tina's approval on this matter, exactly, Artie at least wanted her opinion on it. Because sometimes her logic jumped in when his failed—that's what was great about them. If both of them weren't on the ball…well, at least one of them was. She saw the things that he didn't. His plan could have some loophole-like disaster right in front of his face and he didn't see it and she could pull him back to reality.

"I do, I do," she said, cupping her hands around the cucumbers and moving them into a bowl before starting to dice a tomato. He moved his hand to steal one of the chunks and she gave him a _don't even _sort of look before continuing, "But you and I both know from experience that kids can be _cruel. _And if they're going to be, then there's not much that anyone can do about it. And, sweetie, not that you aren't cool, but you rolling into the classroom and saying how awesome your lifestyle supposedly is might not even effect them…they might just tune it out."

"They're only third graders, Tee," he replied, "They aren't going to be that bad." At least, he hoped not.

"Look," she said, catching his eye, "you are doing something amazing for Cassie. She is so lucky to have you as a friend. " She came around the counter, kissing the side of his face, "And you should be proud of yourself for just that."

Artie thought about what Tina had said in bed that night. She had gone on to say that it was possible that if they knew a little bit more about his—and now Cassie's—day to day life, they might be able to accept it more, but she advised him to not count anything out. Meaning that he shouldn't expect it to go perfectly, he shouldn't expect it to go horribly, but he should find a comfortable middle ground to hope for.

He thought about how he had been treated in the last eight years by people outside of his family. Were people as cruel as Tina had implied?

He went over his memories in his head and only pulled up little things, those kinds of things that he'd been able to brush off over the years. Mean names hurled at him in the hallway or kids putting his lunchbox on the highest shelf of the classroom bookcase.

But then he remembered those bad days, when he'd wait until he'd get in his mother's van and they'd get a little ways away from school to break down, and tell his mother about how horrible his day had been. Most of the time the cause of his tears was from his former friends ignoring him, and even taunting him when he sat by himself mere feet from the jungle gym. More often than not, they'd wouldn't get home before his mother would stop the car in a parking lot somewhere and get in the back with him, lifting him from his chair and letting him lay in the back with his head in her lap until his sorrows had been soothed for the moment.

They had all blurred together in his mind and he couldn't remember specific instances of his happening, but he remembered the feeling that would course through his stomach and he sat up in bed, debating in his head for a moment before transferring into his wheelchair. He rolled down the hallway to the kitchen, where his mother was wiping down the counter in her bathrobe, a few minutes away from going to bed.

"Mom?" he asked, peeking around the corner. She looked up from the counter, moving her gaze to him and before she could say anything, he threw his arms around her waist, "Were people mean to me and I didn't realize it? Tell me honestly."

She sighed ever so quietly, kneeling down in front of him, "You see the best in people, Artie," she patted his hair, his cheek pressed against her shoulder, "It's one of your best qualities…but also one of your biggest flaws."

"What?"

His mother went on, "You were so good at getting past whatever challenge was thrown at you—but in the beginning, you trusted everyone to understand…and you got yourself hurt, do you remember?" He nodded, and she cupped his face in her hands, bringing his face up so they were eye to eye, "I wanted the world for you, you wanted the world, but the world didn't want you back just yet. They didn't see you as the same wonderful boy just yet."

They stayed there for a few minutes, his face buried in her shoulder before she sent him back to bed, taking off his glasses and setting them on the nightstand before kissing his forehead and shutting off the lights on her way out.

Artie hadn't had a night like this in a long time. He very rarely was that vulnerable in front of his mother, because he hated making her upset—and it wasn't an angry kind of upset, but more of a…guilty kind. And he couldn't even remember how long it had been since he cried in front of her.

But it was inevitable that sometimes he just needed his mother's comfort. He was seventeen years old and he could admit that every once in a while he needed someone to stroke his hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

Even if there was no _real _problem this time. No one had hurt his feelings, he and Tina hadn't gotten in a fight, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was just the overwhelming feeling that he knew something in the back of his mind, but wasn't willing to actually see it until that moment.

He laid on his side, flipping through the bad memories before his mind faded into the good ones. The ones of Tina and of glee club and of all the good things that had happened in the last year.

Before finally drifting off, he hoped Cassie would one day lay like this, and the memories in her mind would be all good. Bad memories were worse than scars. You can cover up an unsightly scar, but you can never erase an unthinkable memory.


	15. Chapter 15

**I really didn't mean for it to take so long to have a new chapter up, but alas. Can you tell there's no updating schedule what-so-ever on this baby? **

**So this is unedited. I hope there aren't too many errors, but if there are, just ignore them. I just wanted to get this posted up. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

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Artie could say that he woke up refreshed the next morning, but he couldn't exactly be sure because before he even opened his eyes, the only thing he could focus on were lips on his neck. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, figure out where he was, and what day it was, and the time. He assumed that it had to be well into the morning—the sunlight was streaming in through the crack between his curtains and it was warming up his room, just as Tina's lips were single handedly warming up his body. She was leaving little butterfly kisses along the column of his neck, with occasional sucks to his pulse point. She knew very well that his neck was his weakness.

Though he probably could've quipped something a little more eloquent, he could only mumble _what are you doing here? _as Tina's lips traveled up his jaw and to his lips.

"I want you."

Sex wasn't a particularly new occurrence in their relationship. They'd slept together for the first time a few weeks after regionals the year before. It hadn't been the best experience in the world—it was a lot of trial and error, a bit , though if they were speaking truthfully it was more like a lot—of pain on Tina's end, but since then they'd come to be kind of…good at the whole sex thing. They knew what each other liked and what their limitations were when it came to his condition. He would admit that he'd done his fair share of internet research to find out what he could do that he or Tina hadn't thought of yet.

While their sex life was satisfying all limitations aside, sometimes Artie wished that he was able to do the things that he couldn't. Tina told him time and time again that that she wouldn't change anything about them for the world, but that didn't stop Artie from thinking about the what ifs. He wished they could be more normal. There were things that were so simple that he wished that he would do for her but just couldn't. They found their way around a lot of things, adapted to his and their needs, but he often worried that he couldn't satisfy her.

Physical intimacy was important to him. Not because he was a sex-driven teenage boy, but because he liked the closeness. He liked feeling Tina chest to chest, the warmth that radiated from her body, and the way her ails would crawl at his back if they were both sitting up. He especially liked the way she'd tangle of her fingers in his hair or suck on the sensitive spot below his ear. She knew that and used it to her full advantage. He liked laying in the afterglow, panting and sweaty, but sated and satisfied. He liked rolling on his side with Tina and cuddling. It wasn't just about sex. To him, nothing is ever just about sex.

Things are never just what they are.

Maybe Artie was a rare find—honestly, he could do without the sex. He'd be okay with that, if he was with Tina wanted—he was perfect content with a nice, long cuddle. He liked after more than before, though he liked the during quite a bit too.

He rolled them carefully, so they were chest to chest with him on top. He kissed down her neck, one hand tangled in Tina's as he adjusted his legs with the other, making sure to press kisses to all her sensitive spots. When his hands freed up, they crawled up her loose, black shirt. Her skin was warm and his hands were cold—he knew this by the way she squirmed against his touch, but smiled into his kiss at the same time.

Soon, clothes were discarded and on the floor, and the only sounds in the room were quiet sighs and declarations on love.

Though in the back of his mind, Artie had the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. He hated that feeling of thinking that he was suppose to be doing something important, but this time he brushed off the tiny thought in exchange for the sweet little nothings Tina was whispering in his ear. I love you-s and other declarations that can only be said at this moment, when it's quiet and calm, without a single care.

Hours later, after another round and a few minutes of restful sleep, Artie had his arm around Tina, tracing a pattern with his finger on her bare shoulder. He was on the brink of sleep once again when he realized it. It finally dawned on him what he'd been forgetting this whole time. It was the most important thing he'd had to do probably since Sectionals, months before. It had been his top priority, and yet somehow he'd forgotten. _Somehow _he'd let it slip his mind. Immediately the guilt ran through his veins and at the same time, it was like two hands closing around his neck.

He shot up in bed, nearly bumping Tina off the bed in his haste, but kept her steady with his arm around her waist. The single word that left his lips was choked and he felt like he was going to start hyperventilating in his panic. _How could he have done this? How could he have forgotten? How could he have let someone down like this?_

"Cassie!"


End file.
